Esoteric Ebb Review

Introduction

For years, the question "I just finished Disco Elysium, what do I play now?" had no good answer. Players who'd fallen in love with ZA/UM's singular blend of political philosophy, broken detective fiction, and skill-check-driven roleplay were left staring into a void. Esoteric Ebb, developed by Christoffer Bodegård and published by Raw Fury, is the most convincing answer that void has ever received.

Set in the post-Arcanepunk city of Norvik, a place where Late Medieval fantasy rubs shoulders with modern political machinery — Esoteric Ebb casts you as a Cleric, a government agent of the god Urth, tasked with investigating a mysterious explosion at a tea shop. Five days before the city's first-ever election. With everyone from city officials to shadowy factions doing their best to make sure you never find out the truth.

It's a premise that practically winks at you. And so does nearly everything else in this game.

Building your Cleric in Norvik

Gameplay

Here's the thing, Esoteric Ebb doesn't just borrow the Disco Elysium formula. It interrogates it, stretches it, and occasionally pokes it with a sharp stick.

At its core, the game is a dialogue-heavy RPG driven by D20 skill checks. Your Cleric's stats, ranging from Strength and Dexterity to Charisma and Intelligence, determine not just combat outcomes but whether you can climb a ladder without embarrassing yourself in front of a goblin. Build a high-Charisma, high-Intelligence character and you'll be a silver-tongued disaster who trips over his own feet. The game doesn't just allow this, it actively encourages it.

The D20 system feels more explicitly tabletop-adjacent than Disco Elysium's percentage-based checks, and that distinction matters. Rolls feel weighty and dramatic in a way that suits the game's Discworld-meets-D&D sensibility. You'll want to think carefully before committing to a roll, the game rewards preparation and punishes recklessness, but never cruelly. Failure is almost always interesting.

Exploration is freeform and richly rewarded. Norvik is divided into distinct districts, each layered with side quests, hidden characters, and environmental storytelling. One Steam reviewer memorably described throwing themselves down a sewage pipe with a goblin companion on their first day in the city, and spending an entire session underground dealing with the consequences. That captures the spirit perfectly.

Norvik's layered city districts

Skill Checks and Consequences

What separates Esoteric Ebb from lesser Disco-likes is that it understands failure as narrative fuel. Missing a roll doesn't end your investigation, it redirects it. Characters react differently to a fumbling Cleric than to a competent one, and some of the game's best moments emerge from spectacular incompetence.

The skill system is demanding enough that you'll want to plan your build before diving in. Unlike some RPGs where stats are suggestions, here they are load-bearing walls.

Graphics & Audio

Visually, Esoteric Ebb is striking without being technically ambitious. The art direction leans into a painterly, stylized aesthetic that suits Norvik's eccentric personality, cobblestone streets, candlelit interiors, and the occasional glimpse of something genuinely unsettling beneath the city's cheerful surface.

The soundtrack has drawn consistent praise from players and critics alike, with reviewers noting it complements the game's tonal range, from absurdist comedy to quiet political dread, without ever feeling mismatched. The audio design reinforces the world's texture in ways that are easy to take for granted until you notice how wrong silence feels when it occasionally arrives.

The tea shop at the heart of it all

Story & Narrative

This is where Esoteric Ebb earns its reputation.

The central mystery, who bombed the tea shop, and why, five days before Norvik's first election, is a clever framing device that opens into something much larger. The game is, at its heart, a piece of political satire wrapped in fantasy adventure trappings. Norvik's election is a pressure cooker of competing interests: religious institutions, criminal organizations, civic reformers, and ancient powers that predate the city itself.

What most players miss on first pass is how much the game rewards talking to everyone, even characters who seem peripheral. The writing is consistently sharp, and Bodegård has a gift for characters who feel like they exist beyond the edges of the screen. The Discworld comparison that keeps surfacing in player reviews is apt, there's a Terry Pratchett quality to how the game uses absurdist humor as a delivery mechanism for genuine insight.

The tone is notably lighter than Disco Elysium. Where Disco drags you through existential despair and political tragedy, Esoteric Ebb approaches its darkness with a raised eyebrow and a dry remark. Some players may find this a limitation. Others, arguably the majority, given the review scores, will find it a relief.

High-stakes D20 dialogue rolls

Verdict

Esoteric Ebb is not a perfect game. It wears its influences so visibly that comparisons to Disco Elysium are unavoidable and, at times, unflattering, there are structural choices and UI decisions that feel more like direct homage than evolution. Players expecting the tonal bleakness of Disco may find Norvik's lighter atmosphere a slight disappointment.

But here's the thing: none of that diminishes what Esoteric Ebb actually achieves. The key here is understanding that Bodegård isn't trying to replace Disco Elysium, he's trying to carry its flame into new territory. And he largely succeeds. The writing is exceptional, the world is genuinely worth exploring, and the D20 system gives the roleplay a tactile weight that distinguishes it from its inspirations.

For fans of Disco Elysium, Planescape: Torment, or anyone who's ever wanted D&D filtered through the sensibility of Terry Pratchett, Esoteric Ebb is an essential experience. The answer to "what do I play after Disco Elysium?" finally has a name.