When phrased like that, it is deeply unsatisfying. When phrased more in alignment with what neuroscience aims to actually do, I think it's actually potentially quite satisfying. The problem is that neuroscience hasn't done it yet so it's a currently-empty promise.

Let's consider an example where we do have a bit more knowledge and assess to what extent it's like the properties of water given the properties of hydrogen and oxygen: the sensation of teal.

If we look at a rainbow from a prism, we see that there's blue light, teal light, and green light separated out. If we extract the teal light as a band and pass it through another prism, it stays teal. However, if we extract blue and green and combine them, it looks teal. We can't see any difference at all, until we pass it through another prism and the blue and green separate out, leaving two bands with no pure teal in between.

So what the heck? What is our perception of teal? What does it consist of?

Once we get into the retina and discover cones tuned broadly for blue and green, it all becomes clear. Teal activates both the blue cones and the green cones. Also, mixed blue and green activate the blue cones (mostly because of the blue) and the green cones (mostly because of the green).

Pure teal and blue+green teal result in the same experience for us because they have the same representation in our retinas. Oh! Well, that makes sense. Kind of like how the polarization of water is explained by the properties of oxygen and hydrogen. Cool!

And we can learn a lot of other things about how the representation of outside objects ends up turning into a form that neurons can work with.

Descartes (and Berkeley), not knowing anything like this, came up with all sorts of ideas about how it could work, and arguments about how it couldn't possibly be material, and all of those look utterly laughable now. (Yeah, Berkeley, you were a clever philosopher, but not clever enough to imagine photochemistry and ion channels. No shame in that--just in overconfidence that your imagination was adequate.)

Now, with qualia we don't have an answer as to how it actually works. But if we find that the firing patterns in the olfactory cortex that are induced by the odor of a rose are transmitted directly or indirectly to a subset of the brain that receives broad inputs from other regions also, directs attention between inputs, and plays a key role in goal planning, and when we trick that region by mimicking the impact of olfactory activity people report "I smell a rose", but when we trick anywhere else the same way they report or do different things (sniffing, leaning forwards, reporting that things are "nice" in some inarticulable way), then we have a pretty satisfactory description of what it is to experience the smell of a rose: this activity of this brain region, which is responsible for the tasks of consciousness, is altered in that way.

You never quite escape the al-Ghazali problem of whether the flame burns cotton or whether it's God who does the actual burning, but it's as good as anything else that we have without inserting God into the gaps between high-energy molecular collisions and oxidation.

Now, the question is: is it that way? We don't know. So the question is open. But if someone (e.g. Chalmers) thinks there's no conceivable satisfying answer, my response is just: maybe you're bad at conceiving.

Likewise with morality, although there we basically have the answer, it's just a little distasteful to some. I personally find it amazing and wonderful, but to each their own. The game of life is to make more life; cooperation turns out to be the winning strategy overall but less so from an individual perspective (c.f. Prisoner's Dilemma); and our history as social primates has led to the winning strategy for us being a deep individual conviction about pro-social behaviors being the right thing to do. Pretty cool!

Regarding free will, the entire question usually starts with a conception of freedom that isn't well grounded. If you ask something like, "How is it that we all are imbued with perfect knowledge of every specific fusion event in Alpha Centauri?" the answer is, rightly, "Hahahaha, WHAT?!" But when we grant similarly mystical powers to free will, nobody bats an eye. (Well, some people do--Patricia Churchland for instance--but the answers still aren't always satisfying.)

Pragmatically, will is implemented inside us. It's necessarily, because of the components' properties, partially random and partially deterministic. But that partially random, partially deterministic process is us. It is the internal states that, to a very large extent, determine our actions. That is the sense in which it is free: we actually can choose things.

"How is it that our transcendent immortal soul can express its will as an unmoved mover via the randomness and determinism of matter?" has the answer, "Hahahaha, WHAT?!"

What is missing isn't that determinism plus randomness, interacting with consequences in the world, and iterated, can produce agents who have (and correctly assess that they have) free agency when you draw the boundary of "them" to include "them". Our problem is that we tend to think of ourselves as not being implemented and being distinct from the components that make us. Well, of course if we say, "I am not doing it because material me doesn't count", we won't have a materialistic account of free will. Otherwise, we do.

(To get the qualia of free will, the neuroscience needs to work out. As previously mentioned, it's still not a settled matter.)