Help Disco Elysium Writer Survive the Winter

DISCLAIMER: This fundraiser was disabled for several hours due to GoFundMe terms of service regarding naming actual parties involved in this dispute. If it now, after hasty corrections, reads too confusing and you want to learn more, find me on twitter and I'm happy to elaborate. Now back to regular service...

I am Argo Tuulik, one of the key creatives responsible for bringing you the (allegedly) cursed video game Disco Elysium that brought joy to millions across the world and mostly misery to the people who made it. I am the writer behind characters like Evrart Claire, Cuno, Jean Vicquemare, Judit Minot, the Hardie Boys, René and Gaston, cops in Precinct 41 -- to name a few I am most proud of.

"What was that about misery?" and "What is to be done?" are questions for another day. Rest assured, there is a plan in motion to take the Elysium IP, which predates the video game studio by fifteen years, back from the moneylenders, who ran it to the ground, then locked it away from the world -- and restore it back to the people who *actually* made it. People like Robert Kurvitz, Martin Luiga, Alexander Rostov and yes, yours truly -- Argo Tuulik. Hunter-seeker Kuno's locked in.

But like I said, this is a fight for another day. Today is just about survival.

In February 2024, I was the last member of the original Disco Elysium writing team to be forced out of the place I helped build from the ground up. Unlike the friends who fell before me, I was never a shareholder, did not benefit from the game's success and received no compensation on my departure. They just took my laptop. The dread of suddenly being an unemployed Estonian immigrant in one of the most ruthlessly expensive cities in the world -- London -- drove me to some genuinely awful career decisions. Worst of them, no doubt, was crossing paths with a malignant tech-millionaire determined to force his way into the RPG-landscape by any means necessary.

During the last few years in what once was my homeworld, I was locked in a Cold War with the creatively bankrupt / morally corrupt pirates on the captain's bridge, especially the convicted financial criminal steering the ship from the shadows. It was hard, but on the line was artistic integrity, not my life. There was still air to breathe. Then along comes Claimant.

Fully aware of my dire financial situation, the Claimant attempted to enslave me and -- metaphorically speaking -- lock me in his basement without windows, while he steals my name and trades my reputation in for investor-bait, short-term profit and good will of the Disco Elysium fans. I rebelled against his shameless greed and absolute lack of ethics. Despite the *harrowing* financial situation, I left when I saw the inhuman visage cowering behind the techbro mask.

With the help of friends I tried to start anew, but the Claimant followed me home. In no unclear terms he demanded a seat at the table in the house that we designed to be greed-proof. "Give me a C-suite position in Summer Eternal," the Claimant said, licking his lips. He did not know that in Summer Eternal the position he is asking for is the ditch behind the hole-ridden brick-wall.

I refused the Claimant. But Money doesn't take no for an answer, and in indignant rage he signed an NDA with the pirates in search of ammunition against me. Then bragged about it on tape two seconds later. Money asked for hollow-points but all the pirates had was BB pellets, so he made up lies. Blinded by bloodlust, the pirates wolfed down the tales, and instead of proof, asked for seconds. Couriers from some of the most expensive law firms in London started coming to my door every day. It got so bad I had to go to the cops. Still, I did not yield to the coordinated pressure of the Amoral Alliance. I will not yield, ‘cause letting Claimant in would defeat the purpose of Summer Eternal. "In a sick organism even a healthy cell is doomed to die," writes Ursula LeGuin. And bringing Money into Summer Eternal felt to me like handing Lung Cancer the keys to my body with an encouraging "Drive it like you stole it, bud." It was not an option.

Then the Claimant took me to court and the question immediately became: "Do I want to automatically lose, or do I want to pay 7200 pounds to have representation in the High Court? The hearing is in five days. Three if you don't count the weekend." I paid and it wiped out most of my family's savings. Being a Disco Elysium writer just hadn't been that profitable unfortunately.

The first hearing did not go my way -- there just wasn’t enough time to prepare. The judge ruled in favor of granting the Claimant the interim injunction that he sought, preventing me from working on my chosen field for six months, pending further trial to determine the validity of his claim. Effective immediately, the ruling left me without income or the ability to provide for my family. The blow landed extra-hard because I'm the sponsor for my partner's visa. No visa -- no Right to Rent. Brave the streets hobocop-style I guess?

Then the next day, legal counsel informs me that filing the defence costs *another* 7200 Pound sterling. The alternative is to auto-lose the case of course, but I genuinely believe that's kinda the only way to actually lose this one, ‘cause the Claimant has been carelessly lying under oath left and right, and I have been diligently documenting everything since day 1.

I scrape together the money. The moment it leaves my account I realize there isn't enough left to make the next rent, or council tax, or utilities or even the phone bill. In a desperate panic of being completely stranded in a strange country with no safety net, I pack everything I can fit -- most things I can't -- into our old Ford Transit van, and my partner, myself and our three cats head towards mainland Europe the same night. Then around 3 AM the van dies in the middle of the highway in France, near St. Quentin, due to a catastrophic engine failure. Next day we learn that no one wants to work on it. Some quote the UK license plate as the reason, others say it's the weight. Even the local dealership refuses to take a look.

Now, in a situation where merely standing still is racking up debt, we're down to begging money from the savings of our relatives -- none of whom live in the First World. My partner's retired mum fronts the 2000 Euro bill out of her savings, to have the van with our remaining belongings towed to Friendly Ground.

That leaves just us and our three cats. Another 1000 Euros for trains, fees and the whole shebang. I don't know where that money came from or who went to bed hungry because of it. It's been kind of a blur lately.

Exhausted, hungry, freezing, we make it to our relatives with our three cats. The van is already here. All it needs is an engine rebuild.

This fight has brought me and my family to the brink of bankruptcy, and every now and then I hear faint whispers, friendly advice from the dark: "Take it... Ssssssettle... Sssssettle with the Claimant... This can all go away if you just kneel before him and kiss the ring. He'll grow tired and move on... Ssssssettle..."

I come to you now because I don't want to settle. I don't want Chaotic Evil Claimant and Homeworld Pirates to corrupt the flickering light on the horizon that's given me purpose throughout all of this. I promised the first house we burn down is our own, and here I stand in the smouldering ashes. April is almost here. I swear I saw some bluebells spring. Please help me survive the winter, and I *will* Return by your side in the Summer and stay.

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Breakdown of expenses:

How the money will be spent:

Any funds raised (or left) over the eventual costs will go towards building a new legal claim to restore ownership of the Elysium IP to its original creative worldbuilders, who never signed away rights to the characters and narratives predating the game studio and even its predecessor, the small cultural movement with a seagull on our black flag.

Arx out.