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kindaeccentric · 2 years

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The power of names, which are disco and which are not AKA Harry is a dog named dog

warning: constains significant spoilers for Disco Elysium, a reference to a meme Bon Jovi song, bad grammar, probably, and an overuse of the word 'name'

1. Introduction – the name of the game

One of the many layers of Disco Elysium’s complex narrative is the issue of identity. Lost, assumed, fake, real, old, created anew – identity as the clash between what one believes to be, wants to be, the reality of lived experience and other people’s perception. A name becomes a shorthand for it and justifiably so, because of the information it carries. Each name a person uses or refuses to use for a variety of reasons and those used by their surroundings and their own reactions to it reveal an aspect of their personality, combined identity. It reveals one’s relationship with gender, with other people, with themselves, the law, and society.

Within the reality of the game the importance of a name is accentuated in many ways. The characters oftentimes have more than one name or their name is so characteristic it’s impossible to miss. Sometimes their only name is a description of how the main character perceives them. It invites into a discussion about name as means of asserting dominance over perception of self or perception of other people.

The most obvious, and striking example is of course the main character’s name, but to understand Harry, Harrier Du Bois, Dick Mullen, Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau or Tequila Sunset, one must first consider other examples.

2. Chapter two – it ain’t what they call you...

The first that immediately comes to mind is Klaasje, Miss Oranje Disco Dancer.

Klaasje’s name is supposed to protect her in more ways than one. In the investigation it’s possible to discover it’s not her ‘real’ name, but the truth of what is real and what is not can easily be questioned as it is another layer of meaning that can be found in the game, which reflects the nature of not only the world of Revachol, but also the one we live in. Klaasje’s choice to call herself ‘Klaasje Amandou' shows her character. It’s the name she uses to hide her full identity, it sounds sleek and sophisticated, paints a picture of someone cold and seductive. The meaning of the name, as deriving from 'Nicholas' is ‘victory to the people’, while ‘amando’ means ‘loving’ in Portuguese as well as brings to mind ‘amande’ – 'almond' in French. It attaches her to the union or even revolutionary ideas and suggests her as the object of desire and affection. She seems to want to be both these things, victorious and loved. The name becomes as real as can be. Katarzine Alasije, although it does sound eastern European (or rather Graad), isn’t actually an existing name, it’s rather a derivative of ‘Klaasje’ than vice versa, although it brings to mind ‘Katarzyna/Katerina/Katherine' – ‘pure’ and ‘Alasije’ is pretty close to ‘alias’, it’s a name that no longer serves her. It’s worth to note to Harry this name smells like motor oil and taiga.

And that is without even starting the discussion on the desciptive last-name-replacement ‘Miss Oranje Disco Dancer’. It’s not what she thinks about herself, it’s the name given to her by others and reduces her to the bare facts. She is a woman. She is Oranjese. She’s a party girl. Nobody knows anything more than that. Not like she would say more anyway.

Further examples of names as possesing an inherent deep meaning are bountiful. Cuno treats his like a shield, which makes sense considering the origins of ‘Kuno’ (germanic: clan/family, as well as ‘brave counsel’, used by knights, warriors and saints). Interestingly also ‘De Ruyter’ has a similar meaning (knight/raider). While ‘Cunoesse’s’ name describes her through her codependent relationship with the boy. Not to mention how the spelling of ‘Cuno’ instead of ‘Kuuno’ works further as misspelling of an immigrant name done either by the child himself or people around him or assimilation into the dominant culture, and creates further distance from his role as his abudive father’s son and brings closer to his own perceived identity as someone of a tougher disposition. He might have a dirty mouth and the name seems rudely short and blunt, but just like Cuno himself, it hides a more refined center.

Tommy Le Homme, as Jerry Lefitte’s ‘stage name’, as Kim points out, should actually be 'L’homme’ if adhering to the rules of French grammar. Tommy answers that this one was already taken. ‘L’homme’ means ‘the man’, which, adding to that the meaning of ‘Tommy’ as ‘twin’, implies that he is someone who can’t be ‘the’ man, forever doomed to be secondary. ‘Jerry’, although it’s meaning is ‘appointed by god’ (or close to it), in this instance is more of a ‘working class man name’. It sounds common and familiar. Combined with ‘Lefitte’, close to ‘Lafitte’, which signifies a person living near some boundary mark and is a name of a known pirate, it creates a full picture of Tommy, a lorry driver, a man who travels for a living, dreaming of a more adventurous, romantic life.

A related, although somewhat inverted situation is the man in the fishing village calling himself Idiot Doom Spiral. It’s unclear if he came up with the name entirely by himself, but he uses it over his formal name – George. By taking over the descriptive moniker he accepts his place in the world as a doomed individual. On the one hand it shows his passiveness and self-depreciation, it almost feels like a lousy apology, saying ‘that’s the way I am, and nobody can do anything about it’, but it also creates a wall between him and other people. He anticipates negative reactions and says out loud what someone might be thinking, which takes them aback and prevents him from getting hurt. It’s a form of romanticising his miserable state to make it bearable, but it keeps him in this state too, like a vicious cycle. The name ‘George’ is a name that still connects him to humanity. It’s origin as ‘farmer’ might be ironic at best considering his former job in finances, but it’s not the literal meaning that I find important, but rather the vague, yet undeniable association with kings bearing that name, in particular king George The Third known for his erratic illogical behaviour caused by mental illness, which might be the case also for ‘Idiot Doom Spiral'.

It’s merely the top of the iceberg. ‘The Crab Man’ aka Tiago says about himself, ‘Tiago is my name. But those syllables don’t mean too much to me these days. A name isn’t just your identity, but also, so to speak... your place among your fellows, your place in the world. I ain’t got no use for such a place any more.’ He might believe what he says, but if you realize the name ‘Tiago’ means ‘may god protect’ and the fact we meet him in a church and as a religious devotee, it proves that by revealing any name at all he is already affirming his place in the world, either unknowingly, or out of hypocrisy towards himself.

3. Chapter three – you give love a bad name

In the same church we may learn about the name of the city in which Dolores Dei was crowned, how it didn’t correspond with the circumstances of the ceremony, and hear the voice of Revachol itself, pointing to the fact cities of Disco Elysium carry names the same way people do – as a marker of identity. The crowning of Dolores Dei in Advesperascit, ‘Evening Comes’, being conducted in the morning seems like intentional betrayal. If we accept cities as living supra-natural entities, like Revachol, elevation of a human to the level of a saint or nearly a god brings the city, as an entity deserving of a certain worship looking after its inhabitants, down into submission. Disrespecting a name is an agressive display of power.

The name of Dolores Dei is a perfectly crafted work meant to induce certain feelings of devotion in itself. Alliteration gives it a musical quality, similarly like in case of ’disco dancer’ in Klaasje’s nickname, but where Klaasje is half-admired, half-mocked and the sharp sound of /s/ repeats like a hiss, Dolores Dei’s name has more vovels and a pleasant /l/ in the middle giving it a smoother quality. When combined with the meaning of ’Dolores’ as ‘sorrows’ (immediately bringing to mind the motif of ‘stabat mater dolorosa’ – beautiful Saint Mary weeping under the cross) and ‘Dei’ – ‘god’ in Latin, I doubt there could be a more ‘holy’ name and a name in the context of religion is not a small matter (although that discussion would require a separate post). It involves the name of god, Jesus, as well as nuns and popes taking up a new name upon making the vows or ascending the papal throne.

It’s impossible to discuss Dolores without mentioning Dora, especially considering ‘Dora’ means ‘a gift’ and as a diminutive of Dorothea – a gift from god. ‘Ingerlund’ is trickier. It doesn’t correspond to an existing name, but is close to ‘Ingerland’ a version of the word ‘England’ or separated into two ‘inger’ in Swedish means ‘inspire/infuse/enter’ and ‘lund’ is ‘grove’. Vague, but curious, considering further analysis.

4. Chapter four – give a dog a bad name...

Giving a name, although it doesn’t have to be nefarious, also allows for a level of control. I already brought up an example of ‘Miss Oranje Disco Dancer’, but it clearly extends beyond just this one. Naming creates an invisible bond between the named and the one doing the naming. Whenever the main character of Disco Elysium talks to a character whose name he doesn’t immediately learn we still see a makeshift one. Usually they are simple, fairy objective descriptions (as objective as one can be filtering the image through one’s own unique perception, but more on that later), like ‘Washerwoman’, ‘Racist lorry driver’, ‘Man on water lock’. Those show little emotional engagement. There is still a few that catch your eye more, aforementioned Cunoesse is one, but also Horse-Faced Woman, Gorący Kubek, Bird’s Nest Roy, Paledriver, and, altough for a different reason, Smoker on the Balcony. Those allow more insight into the character of the one doing the naming.

Judit Minot being seen by the main character as ‘Horse-Faced Woman’ is not particularly nice, but allows to assume her face and nose are elongated enough to give an impression that made the amnesiac man see it as the characteristic to recognise her by. This in turn means she made an impression that made him want to give her a memorable nickname in his mind, probably because part of him still saw her as familiar, although the word ‘woman’ remains impersonal and shows lacks of full recognition.

Then ‘Gorący Kubek’ is definitely not the cook’s name, not in the traditional sense, but it’s the only couple of words the main character is able to comprehend from the cook’s language, so instead of just calling him ‘Cook’ he calls him by that very characteristic phrase. It points to the idea of first and last name as being deeply ingrained as the default in human psyche as well as the tendency to, whenever possible, assign full names to people.

Bird’s Nest Roy is a quirky nickname for someone you want to simultaneously distance yourself from, but who you know to be eccentric and with whom you deal with on a regular basis. ‘Bird’s Nest’ signifies the pawn shop full of trinkets and how Roy seems to practically live in it.

There is a special instance where the logic of the naming is slightly disturbed.

The old lorry driver woman is known as ‘Paledriver’ whether or not the main character knows about the pale. Maybe it’s the nature of the pale, permeating the reality of that universe or a sliver of memory. Perhaps both.

And last, but not least of the examples, ‘Smoker on the Balcony’. The young man isn’t the only ‘smoker on the balcony’ possible to encounter. Depending on the playthrough, Kim might be the one to also appear as one, in function, but not name, since his official/self-accepted name is already known. They both can be called ‘cool’ by the main character, who seems to unknowingly equal ‘cool’ with ‘attractive’ and creates a thread between the two such different gay men. The young guy in the purple shirt gains his name not only through the objective lens, but through the main character’s specific perception of this specific configuration of facts. It’s nearly a romantic moniker, reminiscent of ‘Juliet on the balcony’ and the young man’s refusal to reveal his official name adding an air of mystery. Then again, perhaps in this case, the Shakespearian quote ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet’ truly applies. ‘Smoker on Balcony’ fits him well enough.

These naming practices illustrate the protagonist’s slightly bitter sense of humour.

5. Chapter five – just because you know my name...

It brings us to the original smoker, the one, the only, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi.

His relationship with the name he was given is complicated. It seems inherited from his Seolite ancestors, the name and his looks the only tether to the culture he knows next to nothing about. He identifies as (and it’s a fact that’s not disputable) Revacholian, and his unique name, although foreign, accidentally reflects the multicultural makeup of the city’s population, even though he seems to consider it part of what makes him ‘other’. Despite that, he is aware it would be impossible for him to disconnect himself from that name completely, just like his ancestry. Then again, the name itself, both parts of it, are rather vague in meaning. Although ’Kim’ is probably the most common Korean surname meaning ‘gold’, as a given name it is pretty commonly a diminutive form of ‘Joachim/Joakim' – a name found in a variety of cultures. According to Wikipedia, ‘Kim’ was quite popular in early Soviet era in Russia as ’the acronym for Коммунистический Интернационал Молодежи (Kommunistichesky Internatsional Molodyozhi, Young Communist International). An interesting fact considering Kim’s affinity to wearing a revolutionary communard pilot jacket and using ’sunrise, parabellum' as a greeting and the fact he smells, according to his partner, like motor oil and pine needles, the same as Klaasje’s Graadian name. ‘Kim’ is also a diminutive of 'Kimball’, which coincidentally became Kim’s despised nickname. Perhaps ironically, that’s an English language sur- and given name signifying a leader of warriors/war chief/leader of men/brave king. Meanwhile ‘Kitsuragi’ is a whole mystery on its own. It doesn’t correspond to an actual name in neither Korean, Japanese nor any other language, despite sounding distinctly Asian, it is not easy to decipher. I might entertain the idea of this name being the effect of a misunderstanding when Kim’s ancestors first immigrated to the isola, something I already mentioned by analysing the spelling of ‘Cuno’, the case of ‘Gorący Kubek’ and ‘Katarzine Alasije', but elements of it are not devoid of associations. ‘Kitsu’ might reference a fox or a fox spirit appearing in several Asian cultures, whereas ‘Ragi’ might refer to a type of grain grown in regions of Asia and Africa, type of yeast, or even ‘rags’ in Latvian. (Please note that my linguistic capabilities are limited to European branch of the language tree, so it’s entirely possible I might have missed something.)

I think the vagueness might be the intention all along. Kim isn’t secretive, but he isn’t exactly wearing his heart on his sleeve either. He benefits from the fact his name doesn’t reveal much about him, which is a stark contrast to Harry who gained multiple very revealing names. The only name Kim has that actually reveals more about him is the Kimball nickname, because it relates to a long period of time in his life, his interests (or hate towards certain things) and his relationships with people (being belittled and ridiculed, according to what he believes). His affinity to insist to be called by his full rank and name is an attempt at keeping control, recontextualizing his name to become an epitome of authority. It’s not unlike ‘Cuno’ in that sense, although significantly more refined. He allows to be called by first name alone if he feels respect or sympathy towards the person. He might even tolerate being referred to in a joking manner once or twice if he doesn’t detect true malice.

6. Chapter six – every Tom, Dick and Harry

Now, the main character, the protagonist, whose name I tried not to use in the text until this moment. We meet him without a name and identity, or rather, with a distant echo of a forgotten name and an echo of an identity. Within the game, the one name that appears consistently, since it’s the official in-universe one, is Harry or Harrier Du Bois.

Apart from the fact his last name might be inspired by a certain pro-communist and anti-rasist writer, and his first name is apparently the name of a certain in-universe revolutionary hero, the basic meanings are still very distinct.

Harry is a first name that is very common and immediately inspires a feeling of certain vague familiarity, as discussed in the example of Jerry/Tommy. It used to be a diminutive form of a name for a king, Henry (or a couple other high class names starting with H), which means ‘ruler of his home’. It’s still present in the royal lineages of Europe in the original full form, but nowadays everyone can carry it regardless of social standing. The diminutive form, however, bears a significantly less formal associations. It’s a name for common people, for the poor, the factory workers, middle aged guys with mustaches, nobody would remember the noble origins if prince Henry of Sussex wasn’t called ‘Harry’ (because that’s probably how his mother called him, his rebellious streak as an adolescent and to make him seem more relatable). The same shift seems to have occured in-universe. Originally much more high class sounding ‘Harrier’ turned into ‘Harry’. Now, ‘harrier’ sounds high class, although it’s not a name for a person. ‘Harrier’ is a British breed of hunting dogs, edit: as well as a type of a plane and a type of birds of prey. Together with the last name ‘Du Bois’ – from forest, it creates an image of a hunt. And what is a murder investigation if not sniffing for clues, relentlessly. (By the way, in Poland a name for cops is dogs instead of pigs. I don't know if that's the case in other slavic languages, but it explains the title.)

It has been also brought to my attention that ‘tu bois’ can be an inflection of the verb ‘beire’ (‘to drink’) meaning ‘you drink’.

Even without all that context, ’Harrier/Harry Du Bois’ sounds like a cross between something familiar and something entirely romantic, like a name from a detective book. Someone on the internet pointed out ‘Bois’ (French) and 'Bosch' (Dutch) have the same meaning (which makes sense, both words have to have the same origin, they sound pretty similar), which is interesting considering the character of Harry Bosch – a fictional literary and tv detective.

Harry doesn’t realize that his own name is already beautifully engineered and fits him, his newly emerging personality build on and from the ruins of his past life, like a glove. He can’t know he’s grown into it like a kid grows into too big clothes. That name has history, it has weight, is homely, lived-in, it is pleasant to say, rolls off the tongue easily.

Before the protagonist finds out what his name is he believes that it feels like ‘forest fire looming over the horizon’. It’s not far off. Maybe even more accurate than it seems. Through association it’s possible to draw a connection between kings, forests, hunting dogs, displeased peasants, British pubs, whisky and fire. Then again, fire is also metaphorical, it might be the fire of passion, of revolution, a beacon signalling a man of the people, but still standing out, for better or worse, a wild thing, he who has to govern himself, he who investigates, he whose name was tailored for him before it fully fit.

If the protagonist does not recognise this name, there are still other possibilities.

‘Dick Mullen’, as the name of an in-univers fictional detective is not a far call. It repeats the same formula. A kingly first name, meaning ‘strong in rule’, shortened into a diminutive that makes it more common (but somewhat vintage, considering the modern instant association with a vulgar word) and last name associated with a place (living by a mill, miller; the other meaning is devotee/tonsured). I think it’s part of the clever hilarity of such nickname. It enters deeply metatextual territories, especially considering the conversation with Anette about lack of realism in the Dick Mullen books.

If that one still doesn’t seems to fit, perhaps Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau will be more adequate.

It’s not as short as the previous two, quite frankly, it’s a mouthful. It takes space, doesn’t fit neatly. Maybe that’s what Harry would want, a fresh, pure, lemon-scented space-taking name you can’t fit anywhere, a mask so beautiful it would hide your face completely. 'Raphaël’ – healed by god, ‘Ambrosius’ – divine/immortal (also a name of a victorious Brit war leader from 5th century, and a character in Arthurian legends), and finally ‘Costeau’ – ‘of the coast/coast dweller’ (and incidentally a name of a certain naval officer). I can see how that name would be easier to carry, it’s like breeze, ‘taking a bite of lemon meringue while sitting on the terrace of a seaside cafe’ as described by the protagonist. ‘Fancy’ doesn’t even cover the meaning of that alternative name. It’s the name of ease, of salvation, an unobtainable ideal. It’s his craving for water, mentioned many times within the narrative.

And it repeats the same pattern, including the fact that both ‘Du Bois’ and ‘Costeau’ are French. The difference is the new is, well, exactly that, new, unused, not so much more ‘intelligent’ (internalizing the thought adds to the two French named skills, ironically, because even if you don’t put points into those skills, you can’t exactly solve as many cases as Harry did without using some brains and being suave if we disregard the game mechanics and focus on the story, he already had his ‘frenchness’). ‘Harrier’ isn’t a different investigator than ‘Raphaël’ could be. It’s not about being a ‘better’ detective, it’s about being perceived as better. He wants salvation, to be clean and attractive and admired, which proves itself to be the quality he coulf obtain regardless of whether he’s Harry or Raphaël the moment he receives first compliment on his work as a detective and becomes valued as a person in the community. That is, unless he is played as a bad man, because in that case any name becomes a mockery.

Harry’s ideal name has the advantage of giving him a fresh start, but at the cost of alienating him from his lived experience and without the benefit of his first name being hidden like Klaasje’s. ‘Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau' is comical, but also like a name for a saint, it doesn’t change the person’s life in any capacity, but changes the outside perspective. Raphaël never existed and never will, not really, as long as he doesn’t change his entire PR, and even then, it wouldn’t be true, wouldn’t make Harry into a person he wants to be. It would be like going from Ziggy Stardust to Thin White Duke, or even more like Brian Slade committing fictional suicide and becoming unrecognisable as Tommy Stone in ‘Velvet Goldmine’, or, perhaps, in-universe, Dolores Dei, who, I firmly believe, had to have a different name before she became what she became.

(Mind you, this is very Harry-specific, I hope it’s clear from the previous parts of this text that choosing a fitting name for yourself and demanding to be referred to by that name is a valid option. In such cases the literal meaning the previous name has is irrelevant, or rather it’s meaning becomes the negative to whatever the new one means, the fact that it’s abandoned for a different one proves it did not fit.)

The only remaining name is ‘Tequila Sunset’, a name not chosen, but again, given, and from Idiot Doom Spiral no less. It’s obviously a name of a cocktail characteristic for its yellow, orange and red coloring, which supposedly resembles the hues of the setting sun. If you paid attention, you know where I’m going with this. Fire over the horizon.

There is no escape. Of course, the name for the protagonist, as well as all the other characters, mentioned or not (I might create an addendum about Jean, but this already has around 6 pages) are picked by the writers. The deliberation and thought going into the naming process is admirable and quite fascinating. It seems like names in the universe of Elysium truly reflect the nature of the people they belong to, one way or another. Maybe it’s not entirely untrue in this world either, otherwise we wouldn’t have so many quotes and sayings including the word ‘name’ or names themselves. Even 'John Doe' is a full name, after all.

Thanks/credits:

reddit user Mildred_Bonk (the bit about Harry Bosch, it's the one detective I didn't know existed, despite my love for the genre)

@brennisteinnexe who provided some of the other information/research and encouraged me to finish writing this post (although I cannot attest to the quality of my writing xd) thank you, bratan!

#disco elysium #disco elysium meta #disco elysium analysis #harry du bois #harrier du bois #kim kitsuragi #klaasje amandou #dolores dei #Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau #Dick Mullen #i don't know how to tag this #long post #essay #i hope it reads smoothly #i got called out for using too simple language in academic writing so i think it's easy to comprehend #as in it's good it's simple hopefully #there will be an addendum #but for now i run out of steam

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