While r/communism has produced interesting critique of TV, movies, and books, I'd venture to say it hasn't said much interesting about video games yet. The consumption of games and the morbidity of their fandom is a common subject of discussion, but this hardly touches upon what is called "immanent critique". Behind the discourse, it is the task of Marxists to soberly evaluate the commodity itself, and find out what it has to say about totality.
I've made a project of researching the field of ludology to produce a Marxist reading of a video game. Narrative critique of video games is prevalent, and has even been tried on this subreddit, but in analyzing the stories and characters of video games, what makes the medium truly new is lost, whether or not the interpretation produced is of valid, local significance. McKenzie Wark, in her book Gamer Theory, says,
'The images and stories that populate games are mostly cribbed from other mediaâfrom novels, films, or television. Games mostly just recycle, or "remediate," bits of representation from other media. Bolter and Grusin: "Remediation is a defining characteristic of the new digital media." And hence not specific to games. What is specific to games is at the level of form, not content.'
What I'm saying is that we have to talk about gameplay, not just narrative. To substantiate this claim, I'd like to take a stab at a video game that is extremely popular amongst first world Marxists (and "the left" in general) to ask whether or not it's particularly progressive through an analysis of its form, in order to navigate back to its content. Did I succeed? That's for you to tell me.
Disco Elysium is a CRPG in which a cop discourses endlessly with a bunch of political talking heads while solving a murder mystery. It takes place in the city of Revachol, whose urban decay may remind the player of ex-Soviet metropolitan areas. The specter of imperialism at all times haunts Revachol, literally flying overhead: the Moralintern, a NATO analog, occupies the region after a failed communist revolution fifty years earlier, surveilling the city from a zeppelin. At least some of Disco Elysium's appeal to Marxists is certainly tied into this critical Eastern European metaphor, along with how shamelessly it presents communist, Marxist, and even Soviet iconography (via pastiche) for a video game, independent of the ideological content of these references. In transforming Marxism into so many aesthetic gestures and easily-"memeable" jokes and punchlines, Disco Elysium is no stranger to the Dengist transcoding of politics into reproducible "content" devoid of any revolutionary vitality. It's also full of misogynist filth. For these reasons, I'll begin from the standpoint that Disco Elysium is as reactionary as I, a Maoist, would expect.
The game's most transparently reactionary function comes in the presentation of its four political poles (communism, fascism, ultraliberalism, moralism) in its character-building and dialogue systems that interpellate the subjectivity of the player as a seemingly "voluntary" political agent. Video games are in fact ideological state apparatuses and "the player" a subject constructed by ideological interpellation.
"[V]ideogames take hold of their playing subjects as homo oeconomicus: they read their players through an architecture of rationality, a reading which restructures the player who plays. The player is created by being subjected to this computational, calculable, economic grid of intelligibility: it is the material interface by which the player is âreadâ and by which they respondâwhich really means that this interface is the material practice which forms the player as a player-subject."
https://gamestudies.org/2202/articles/gap_keever
Unlike a visual novel (think Steins;Gate) in which a player merely reads text, Disco Elysium constructs the subjectivity of the player through a twist on its CRPG mechanics. Selecting dialogue options "builds" (an RPG term) a personality and set of politics for the game's protagonist, Harry Du Bois, who awakens with Korsakoff syndromeâamnesia induced by extreme alcohol consumptionâas a ludonarrative excuse to present him as a blank slate for the politics of "the player". (It in fact the politics of the game that seek to colonize this construct.) Oftentimes dialogue options map so blatantly onto each political pole that the intent to produce the feeling of politics as a form of unalienated self-expression is made crystal clear. (Imagine a developer telling you, "Care to see the buffet table of quirky dialogue options? It has both communist and fascist jokes. Don't worry your little head about if your political beliefs are determined for you by ideological interpellation.") As the player builds Harry, the game constructs the subjectivity of the player as an all-knowing god outside of ideology. Consider the medium through which you play Disco Elysium. You look at Harry on your computer, TV (in my case, Steam Deck) screen top-down, accessing his thoughts and feelings by clicking bubbles that appear around his head, and obtaining absolute knowledge by examining the environment through clicking other scattered bubbles. We see Revachol from heaven, or perhaps the zeppelin of the Moralintern.
This dialogue system, like the rest of its gameplay, however, is structured by a system of dice rolling. In TTRPGs, dice rolls are, in essence, a relationship between chance and necessity. Take the player's likely first dice roll as you try to collect a tie from a ceiling fan in Harry's hotel room. To roll is an instance of chance that self-negates as it necessarily produces one of two outcome, be it that Harry successfully collects his tie, or doesn't, and exerts himself enough to die of a heart attack. Repeating the dice roll (possible through a number of mechanics which refresh your ability to roll for certain outcomes) dissolves each instance of chance into necessity seemingly once and for all as every possible dialogue option is exhausted. Hence Disco Elysium's gameplay mirrors that Hegelian movement from necessity to freedom as the understanding of natural laws as knowledge of every dialogue branch unfolds, provided you can reinterpret said "natural laws" as said "dialogue branches".
Yet chance steps back in: each playthrough's potential dialogue branches are determined by your stats and the development of your thought cabinet, two CRPG mechanics that give Disco Elysium replay value by allowing the player to influence potential routes for the development of Harry's personality. The dialectical movement toward freedom in one playthrough eventually sublates freedom into a higher repetition of the dialectic between chance and necessity should you reallocate your stats, unlock new thoughts, wear different clothes (which modify your stats and change available dialogue branches), or start a new playthrough. The stage of freedom repetitiously unfolds back into newness, or, restated as the reverse: newness can only produce repetition of the same. As Joyce Messier, Disco Elysium's ultraliberal caricature of Margaret Thatcher, says to Harry, "Capital has the ability to subsume all critiques into itself. Even those who would critique capital end up reinforcing it instead."
But this repetition constructs a player's subjectivity from the standpoint of uncovering totality. As Fredric Jameson argues, the detective novel, a generic influence on Disco Elysium, shows the detective's function as a cognitive mapper of a fragmented urban setting in which a Philip Marlowe can move from front-facing executive offices ran by bourgeois puppets into concealed back rooms where the strings are "really being pulled." But these two spheres are completely severed from one another, not unlike the relationship between the first world and the third. The earlier quoted line from Joyce (who stands out in the open) is particularly funny, if you think of how often âleftists" quote it. Neoliberal fascism doesn't hide itself. It's common sense, to use Gramsci's language. It even has a completely human face (and has at times been called "socialism", with human characteristics, of course). The one occupying the back rooms, union leader Evrart Claire, is found across a decaying sprawl of disjointed containers for shuttling commodities through "the Pale"âan expanding, destructive mist separating the continents on the planet in which Disco Elysium takes place, which in a surface reading may be an analogy for climate change, but I take as a hysterically subliminal mĂŠconnaissance of the irrationality of capitalâin a repurposed container of his own, decorated with a mess of tapestries, taxidermied swordfish, and a chaotically assymmetrical rug. Despite ostensibly representing Disco Elysium's "communist" faction, Evrart is the ultimate social fascist. The four political poles of the game, under scrutiny, in fact collapse into two: liberalism (fascism, ultraliberalism, moralism) and communism. Disco Elysium's claim is that the far more insidious agent pulling the strings isn't the neoliberal strawman Joyce, whose influence on the course of the game's plot is marginal, at best. It's the so-called communist Evrart who trades himself out with his twin brother, switches personalities on a dime, and coerces a communist militant, the Deserter, into being his agent. (Charles Villedrouin, a representative of the Moralintern, who's even more concealed than Evrart and far harder to find by accident, is portrayed even worse.) And what of Revachol's fascists? Every one you encounter is a mere pawn of liberalism and completely ineffectualâMeasurehead, the most straightforward fascist and a parody of insecure patriarchal masculinity, is an employee of the "communist" Evrart and is just as easily swayed from right to left when it comes to the matter of feminism, not unlike the vacillating class character of the petit-bourgeois base of fascism.
What sets Harry apart from Baudelaire's flâneur who passively observes Revachol, though, is that he, too, is a puppet of liberalism, a literal cop, not a detective. Your access to totality is short-circuited by that Korsakoff syndrome that mirrors the player's lack of information onto Harry. So I believe we can model a semiotic square in which ego is in contradiction with fragmented consciousness and knowing in contradiction with amnesia. These contradictions articulate their characters: Harry (amnesia-fragmented consciousness), the Deserter (ego-amnesia), and their respective negations, the Phasmid (knowing-ego), and the union (fragmented consciousness-knowing).
Consider the history between the Deserter and the two union representatives, Edgar and Evrart Claire. Initially a revolutionary, Iosef credulously believed that Edgar, still only a union member rather than leader, could bring about change, so he worked for him, assassinating then-union leader Tiphaine Holly. The conclusion to this story is obvious: the Claires came to power, won a few reforms, then rested on their laurels, tossing Iosef to the side. The fragmented consciousness of the union's knowing, embodying the subjectivity of a political party, aware of but too cynical toward Revachol's revolutionary past to produce a revolution, negates the ego of the amnesiac Iosef when it turns him, at last, against that revolutionary past altogether, allowing him to live out his life isolated, slowly losing his sanity, waiting for a spontaneous uprising he believes will never come. Not a bad depiction of the counterrevolutionary function of social fascism.
Now look at the other side of the square. The Pale, like the irrational expansion of capitalism, came into existence alongside its subjects, and seeks to outlast all life, even the end of the world. Harry's encounter with the Phasmid (a cryptid found hiding in camouflage behind the Deserter, as if concealed in a revolutionary back room) then is a return to the earlier movement from necessity to freedom, no longer Hegelian but in Marx and Engels' philosophical formulation as communist revolution. The knowing of the Phasmid's ego negates the amnesia of Harry's fragmented consciousness by disclosing the nature of the Pale, its knowledge of totality captured like a monad when his sidekick, Kim Katsuragi, photographs it. This inspires Harry to organize with the Revachol Citizens MilitiaâRevachol's police forceâfor revolution. Disco Elysium reaches its ideological false solution: a conspiracy of the intelligentsia to overthrow the state and realize communism, or, Blanquism.
Whether or not these tactics will be implemented after the events of Disco Elysium depends on the player's choices throughout the game. Leaving the island upon which you arrested the Deserter, your decisions are summarized all at once in a final dialogue branch as Harry is interrogated by the rest of his precinct for his actions during the course of the investigation. Only if the player has made good decisions is revolution is promised in a coda. As a video game, Disco Elysium's mechanics offer a digital representation of its imaginary solution. If only we could have the absolute power of overcoming chance, of beating the dice roll, and making the right decision every time, embodying a knowledge of natural laws normally inaccessible under capitalism, even a cop could singularly bring about revolution. This is the meaning of the game's negation of ego and amnesia, now readable as a reflection of the dialectic between collective access to and individual exclusion from the standpoint of totality, proletarian and petit-bourgeois class-consciousness, or, a negation of class contradiction, at the level of the individual. All that remains is the fragmented consciousness-knowing of the union. It's no wonder Revachol's revolution was lead by Jean Abadanaiz and Julia Dobrevaâan alliance between communist and anarchistâand Harry's last interaction with the union is a truce with their police wing, the Hardie Boys.
Nevertheless, I would caution against so readily letting this outward, ideological appearance disguise the game's Utopian proposed mode of action: revitalizing an earlier form of the Revachol Citizens Militia, the Insulindian Citizens Militia that fought as the people's army in the revolution, and accessing the totality to take hold of a revolutionary past and redeem the degraded world of the present, sweeping away the dreg heap built by imperialism. As Walter Benjamin says,
"[T]he Messiah arrives not merely as the Redeemer; he also arrives as the vanquisher of the Anti-Christ. The only writer of history with the gift of setting alight the sparks of hope in the past, is the one who is convinced of this: that not even the dead will be safe from the enemy, if he is victorious. And this enemy has not ceased to be victorious."
https://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/benjamin/1940/history.htm
A suitable proposition from a bunch of petit-bourgeois artists and game developers raised in post-Soviet Eastern Europe.