Noclip just dropped part two of their massive Disco Elysium documentary series, and it reveals something fascinating: the game’s distinctive atmosphere of decay and abandonment wasn’t just artistic vision. It was literally the studio building itself bleeding into the game. ZA/UM worked out of two partially dilapidated buildings in central Tallinn, Estonia, where they lacked basic equipment like whiteboards. So they used a furnace instead. That improvised furnace whiteboard ended up in the game as part of the doomed commercial space. The walls, the decay, the makeshift nature of everything became Martinaise.
Two Buildings, One Vision
When production on Disco Elysium began, ZA/UM occupied two partially dilapidated buildings in Tallinn that mirrored the fractured, crumbling world they were creating. Robert Kurvitz, the game’s creative director, described how the office space was converted into studio premises, and he always thought it would be a cool place to create something meaningful. Producer Lembit took it upon himself to build the physical workspace, traveling to Helsinki to get IKEA furniture and constructing a functional studio from scratch.
Art director Argo Tuulik emphasized how perfect the location was in both its placement and state of decay. He specifically noted that if they’d worked in some modern minimalist studio with white surfaces and hallway water fountains, he doesn’t know how it would have shaped them. The decay was essential. The imperfection informed everything. When you’re writing about a failed revolution in a crumbling district, working in a building that’s literally falling apart creates authenticity you can’t fake.
The Furnace Whiteboard Story
One of the documentary’s best anecdotes involves the team needing a whiteboard but lacking the budget for one. Someone suggested using an old furnace as a makeshift whiteboard. They did exactly that, and it worked well enough. But then that furnace ended up in the game itself as part of the doomed commercial space. Helen Hindpere mentioned there was even some “self-basement” (likely meaning self-deprecation) from the studio in including it.
This kind of environmental storytelling, where the actual development conditions become part of the game world, is remarkably meta. Players walking through Martinaise’s abandoned buildings and failing businesses were experiencing aesthetics directly inspired by ZA/UM’s own workspace. The game’s themes of decay, abandonment, and making do with insufficient resources weren’t abstract concepts. They were daily reality for the developers.
Three Rooms, Three Departments
Lead programmer Siim explained the old studio basically had three rooms: the artists’ room, the programmers’ room, and the writers’ room. He’s not sure if this siloed structure was good or bad because it limited cross-departmental communication. On one hand, people could focus deeply on their work without constant interruptions. On the other, games require collaboration across disciplines, and physical separation makes that harder.
The documentary mentions the team was “too loud in meetings” and got banished to a completely different side of the building, which was technically a different building altogether despite being connected. This chaotic, improvised workspace arrangement sounds nightmarish from a project management perspective but somehow contributed to creating one of the most cohesive and thoughtfully designed games in recent memory. Sometimes structure and professionalism aren’t what creativity needs.
Building Revachol From Rubble
The episode focuses on how the team began constructing the city of Revachol and specifically the district of Martinaise where the game takes place. The parallel between building a fictional city and physically building their own workspace isn’t subtle. Both were improvised projects created from limited resources by people who believed in something despite having every practical reason to give up.
Kurvitz and the team used their surroundings as direct inspiration for environmental design. The crumbling infrastructure of post-Soviet Tallinn, combined with the decay of their own building, informed Martinaise’s aesthetic of faded glory and current neglect. This is why Disco Elysium feels so grounded despite being set in an entirely fictional world. The sensory details, the textures of decay, the way poverty and history layer over each other all come from observed reality.
Life in Estonia Influenced Everything
Noclip’s first episode covered how life in Estonia influenced Disco Elysium’s creators. This second episode demonstrates how the physical walls of their building impacted Elysium’s design itself. It’s environmental determinism applied to game development. Your surroundings shape your output whether you realize it or not. Working in decay created a game about decay. Working in improvised conditions created a game about making do with insufficient resources.
The commons area where people smoked and drank coffee, the separated buildings forcing awkward navigation, the lack of basic equipment turned into creative solutions, all of this fed into the game’s atmosphere. Disco Elysium doesn’t feel like a polished AAA production because it wasn’t made in a polished AAA environment. It feels scrappy, personal, and authentic because those qualities defined the development process.
The Visual Style as Cover Band
Interestingly, a related article mentions that Disco Elysium’s distinctive visual style was initially conceived as a “cover band” for Obsidian’s Pillars of Eternity. The team wanted to evoke that isometric CRPG aesthetic while developing their own identity. This speaks to how ZA/UM approached the entire project: taking established forms and transforming them through their unique perspective shaped by Estonian cultural history and the specific conditions of their development environment.
Why This Documentary Matters
Noclip’s documentary series is essential viewing for anyone interested in game development, particularly indie development under resource constraints. Danny O’Dwyer and his team have unprecedented access to the creators and locations where Disco Elysium was born. This isn’t sanitized PR material. It’s honest documentation of how messy, chaotic, and precarious game development can be, especially when you’re trying to create something genuinely original.
Part two specifically focuses on the physical act of building both a studio and a game world simultaneously. The parallel narratives of constructing workspace from abandoned buildings and constructing Martinaise from concepts and art create a meditation on how creation always involves transforming limited resources into something greater. ZA/UM couldn’t afford proper office space, so they made dilapidated buildings work. They couldn’t afford mainstream marketing, so they made a game so distinctive that word of mouth carried it.
Part Three on Patreon
Noclip operates on a Patreon-supported model, and part three of the series is already available for supporters. For those following along with the free releases, expect the next episode to drop in the coming weeks. The entire series promises to be the definitive documentary on Disco Elysium’s development, covering everything from its origins in Estonian tabletop gaming sessions to its cultural impact years after release.
The Tragedy Hanging Over Everything
Watching this documentary carries a melancholic weight because we know what happened after Disco Elysium’s success. The legal battles, the departure of key creators including Kurvitz, the cancellation of the sequel, the fractured studios attempting spiritual successors, none of it appears in this documentary because it focuses on the original game’s development. But it’s impossible to watch and not think about how this creative collective that worked in decay to create something beautiful ultimately fell apart.
Multiple studios formed by ex-ZA/UM developers are now working on spiritual successors. Longdue Games has one in development. Other teams have announced competing projects. Legal disputes continue. The magic that happened in those dilapidated Tallinn buildings appears difficult if not impossible to recreate now that the team has scattered and the innocence of that first project is gone. Success ruined what poverty and passion had built.
Reddit Community Response
One Redditor in the Disco Elysium subreddit commented that the most interesting takeaway was that Disco Elysium really was a scaled-down, tiny slice of something supposed to be much bigger. This aligns with what we know about Kurvitz’s original vision for Elysium as a setting. He’d been developing it since the early 2000s through tabletop games and a failed novel. Disco Elysium was always intended as just one story in a much larger world.
The cancelled sequel, according to reports, would have expanded the scope significantly. Other projects in development at ZA/UM before mass layoffs included a sci-fi RPG and a full-sized Elysium spin-off. We’ll likely never see those visions realized by the original team. Instead, we have this documentary as a record of what was, and multiple competing spiritual successors attempting to capture what might have been.
Frequently Asked Questions
What is The Making of Disco Elysium Part Two about?
This Noclip documentary episode focuses on how ZA/UM built their studio in two dilapidated Tallinn buildings and how that physical environment directly influenced the creation of Revachol and Martinaise in the game.
Who made this documentary?
Noclip, the crowdfunded video game documentary channel founded by Danny O’Dwyer. They’ve created in-depth documentary series on games like Final Fantasy XIV, Hades, and many others.
When did Part Two release?
December 11, 2025 on YouTube. Part three is already available on Noclip’s Patreon for supporters.
How did the studio building influence Disco Elysium?
The crumbling, improvised workspace in dilapidated Tallinn buildings directly shaped the game’s aesthetic of decay. They even used a furnace as a whiteboard, which ended up appearing in the game itself.
Where was ZA/UM’s studio located?
Central Tallinn, Estonia, in two partially connected dilapidated buildings. The location and state of decay were considered perfect for creating Disco Elysium’s atmosphere.
How many parts will the documentary be?
At least three parts so far, with part one covering foundations and Estonian influences, part two covering building the studio and Elysium, and part three available on Patreon.
Can I watch it for free?
Yes, parts one and two are free on YouTube. Part three is currently Patreon-exclusive but will likely become free eventually following Noclip’s typical release pattern.
What happened to ZA/UM after Disco Elysium?
Legal disputes led to the departure of key creators including Robert Kurvitz. A sequel was cancelled. Multiple spiritual successor studios have formed with ex-ZA/UM developers.
Why You Should Watch This
If you loved Disco Elysium, this documentary series is essential viewing. It explains not just how the game was made, but why it feels the way it does. The connection between environment and creativity, between poverty and resourcefulness, between decay and beauty, all the themes that make Disco Elysium resonate are present in its development story. Noclip has crafted a documentary that honors the game by adopting its level of thoughtfulness and attention to detail.
For aspiring game developers, the documentary offers valuable lessons about working with constraints. ZA/UM didn’t have money, experience, or proper facilities. They had vision, determination, and the ability to transform limitations into creative fuel. Not every constraint makes a project better, but the right mindset can turn apparent weaknesses into distinctive strengths. Disco Elysium exists because the team worked in buildings that mirrored the world they wanted to create.
Watch part one first to understand the Estonian cultural context and personal histories that shaped the creators. Then watch part two to see how abstract concepts became concrete reality through the act of building both workspace and game world. And support Noclip on Patreon if you can, because documentary journalism about game development deserves funding. These stories matter. They preserve the creative process behind art that moves people. And in Disco Elysium’s case, they document lightning in a bottle that we may never see again.