What happened to video game melodies? It's a question people have been asking for
years - about 20 years, in fact. It seems that as soon as the Super Nintendo
was considered last-gen, we’ve looked back at the era as a Golden Age of Video Game Music,
and bemoaning new soundtracks as bland and forgettable. I’ve always kind of written off this idea
as rose-tinted nostalgia - things always mean more to us when they were a formative part
of our growing up, and we have a tendency to compare the best of the best from yesteryear
with the average flock of today. And after all, there are still plenty of wonderful
game soundtracks being released every year, whether Triple A or indie, western or Japanese,
orchestral or chiptune, melodic or ambient. There’s something out there for everyone
- if you think video game music has gotten worse, well you just have to look harder. However, I’ve realised that’s not really
an answer - it’s a dismissal, and the question continues to be asked in spite of it. Because it’s true that when you boot up
a game nowadays, you’re more likely to be greeted by something that sounds like this...
rather than something like this... At least, more likely than you were two or
three decades ago. Even Red Dead Redemption 2, which won Best
Score at The Game Awards in 2018, puts its first musical foot forward with this… Seemingly there has been a 21st century trend,
particularly with the blockbuster AAA games, toward atmospheric scores with rather muted
melodies. This movement isn’t unique to video games
though - there’s been a parallel conversation happening over the past few years about forgettable
film scores. And certainly we shouldn’t ignore the increasing
influence that cinema has on video games: as computer technology has improved and game
budgets inflated, there’s been a greater cross-pollination of actors, writers, and
even composers between the two mediums, making a certain subset of games and their scores
more cinematic than ever before. It’s easy to point the finger at Hollywood,
and surely it has impacted the sound of video game music, but cinematisation doesn’t explain
the whole story. You see, the iconic early video game melodies
were born out of resistance. It’s often been said by composers and video
essayists alike that “limitation breeds creativity”, and in the case of video game
music that limitation was the hardware. The original NES console, for instance, could
only produce a maximum of five simultaneous sounds at once, which had to be shared between
the background music and the sound effects. On top of this, each of these sound channels
could only output a specific type of waveform: Two were dedicated to the smooth, whistling
Square waves which could easily carry the melody, one for the stabby Triangle wave great
at basslines, one of harsh distorted noise most useful for percussion, and finally one
channel exclusive for low-fidelity imported audio samples, used on occasion for special
instruments, such as the drum in Super Mario 3. And also this. (“Skate. or. Die! Skate or Die! DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE! Skate. or. Die. Skate-skate, skate-skate or die. D-D-D-D-D-Di-Di-Di-Di-Die! BRAAAAAAMMMM”) Uhhh... Basically, these limitations prevented composers
from being able to orchestrate their music to any reasonable degree. You could use that second square wave for
basic harmonies, accompaniment, or even jerry-rig your own echo effect with it. But that was really about it. This led to a compositional style that almost
entirely disregarded arrangements and textures because it just wasn't possible to control
those aspects, and instead relied heavily on the one thing the system could do really
well - the melody. And this is often cited as the reason why
old video game music is so memorable - I've even said so on this channel before. However, limitations maketh not the music. Upon release of the NES’s successor, the
Super Nintendo, these limitations were somewhat relieved. Not only did it come equipped with built-in
audio effects such as echo and filters, the number of sound channels jumped from 5 to
8, allowing for richer arrangements. And instead of only outputting a designated
waveform, they were now upgraded to 16-bit sample channels, blowing open the possibilities
for different instrument sounds. Arguably it was the introduction of these
improvements which alleviated some of those technical hardware limitations, that freed
composers from their creative constraints, heralding in the Golden Age of Video Game
Music. While this era without a doubt delivered some
of the greatest video game tunes of all time, it wasn’t always because of some magical
melodies. Composers were now able to experiment with
different textures and create dense, immersive sonic soundscapes. For Donkey Kong Country, composer David Wise
famously engineered his samples on a microscopic level to mimic that of the KORG wavestation
synthesiser, and together with Evaline Fischer, created three of the moodiest, most atmospheric
soundtracks that even veered into industrial and ambient music, incorporating environmental
sounds into the composition. Then there’s Super Metroid, in which Kenji
Yamamoto and Minako Hamano built upon the original game’s foreboding atmosphere with
a score that perfectly captures the planet Zebes, almost as if it was made from it. With ominous howls and low rumbles that blur
the line between music and the environment, as well as off-kilter rhythms, and panning
and volume effects that disorient you within the underground maze of alien tunnels. These composers took the opportunity granted
by the Super Nintendo’s superior technology to focus on ambience and atmosphere over melody,
yet they are among the most beloved and well-remembered game soundtracks ever made, and are considered
to be ahead of their time, predictive of the sound that was to come. Obviously there were still some fairly major
limitations with the 16-bit consoles: the poor sample quality and the low audio RAM,
among others. And it’s important to remember that modern
video game composers still encounter a myriad of limitations that also impact on their compositions. One such limitation is time. Publishers are known to push strict deadlines
and release dates on developers, and composers are often brought onto projects very late
in the development cycle and are expected to write hours of music that is dynamic, tonally
consistent with the rest of the game, and achieves this entirely vague concept of being
memorable. Related is the ever-looming limitation of
money, especially for smaller indie developers. This is something that impacted the soundtrack
of Supergiant Games’ debut Bastion. As a small indie start-up, Supergiant didn’t
have the capital to invest in a studio for their resident composer Darren Korb, so he
recorded everything in his New York apartment, giving the soundtrack a certain intimate quality. Darren also didn’t own a drum-kit, or anywhere
to play one even if he did, so he leaned into this limitation and took inspiration from
trip-hop, incorporating electronic beats. Taken with his rock sensibilities and the
American frontier aesthetic of the game, this all combines into a strikingly distinct musical
style that is completely inimitable and instantly memorable. Perhaps the most impactful modern limitation
though is reactivity. Remember earlier when I said that game composers
need to make music that is dynamic? What I mean by that is that the music needs
to be reactive and able to adapt to changes in the game state and input from the player. Whether it’s entering a new location or
being ambushed in battle, the music needs to be ready to change at any given moment,
and atmospheric soundscapes are much more malleable than an audacious theme is. This is why I don’t think the link between
modern video game music and film scores is as simple as a direct influence. Certainly I won’t deny that the Hans Zimmer
approach of composition, relying more heavily on mood and atmosphere rather than melody,
has no doubt coloured the sound of modern game music, especially within the AAA sphere. But it’s less of games trying to be cinematic,
and more that interactivity limits the heavy use of melody outside of scripted, linear
events and cutscenes. The Zimmerization of movie music has really
just provided game composers with a framework to create a more vibey and rhythmic score. These modern limitations may not be as hardwired
into the system as the technical shortcomings of the early consoles, but they do still have
a hand in shaping compositions. And again, a lack of limitation does not mean
a lack of creativity. One of my all-time favourite video game tunes
is actually a very recent one: Steam Gardens from Super Mario Odyssey, composed by none
other than the Mario maestro himself, Koji Kondo. Kondo wrote only a handful of tracks for the
game, the soundtrack is rather simple in its reactivity, and surely there is very little
in terms of budgetary issues for the music of a mainline 3D Mario platformer. Yet the Steam Gardens theme is brimming with
creativity. Underneath its surf rock electric guitar riff,
it has a jazzy groove and a compact brass section to boot, all over a lo-fi breakbeat
straight out a drum ‘n’ bass song. It’s so compositionally distinct and stands
out with all its disparate parts that somehow manage to work together. I wouldn’t call Steam Gardens one of Koji
Kondo’s greatest melodies, not by a long shot, but he still hits such a unique vibe
that I won’t be forgetting anytime soon. So it’s obvious that a lack of limitation
is not the reason why modern video game music may not be as memorable as it once was. And while a catchy hook certainly plays a
big role in creating classic earworms, the fact that we revere the soundtracks of Donkey
Kong Country and Super Metroid as classics, and consider the likes of Journey, The Last
of Us, and Hyper Light Drifter among the greatest OSTs of the past decade suggest that melody
is not the be-all and end-all when it comes to making a memorable piece of music. So what else is there that contributes? Well, I’ve spoken previously about the reduced
role that music has in modern video games, how it’s had to make space in the audio
mix for the introduction of voice-acting and increased requirement of environmental ambience. The sheer visibility of music and its importance
in establishing atmosphere and tone is definitely not as strong as it once was, although many
indie developers lack the budget and resources for such things and still rely on the music
to convey that tone. And then there’s repetition: the more you
hear a piece of music, the easier it is to remember and the more likely it is to get
stuck in your head. If you’ve ever listened to Top 40 radio,
you should know this well. Game soundtracks used to be a lot shorter,
with fewer tracks that would be reused across different levels, mainly due to the limited
storage space. Now the scope of games (and their available
memory) is much larger, and there’s an expectation to have unique music cues for every new area
or event, minimising the amount you hear each individual track. One method of countering this problem is leitmotif
- yes, I now talk about leitmotif in every video I make. Reusing melodies in new tracks not only cuts
down on the amount of original thematic material composers need to write, but it also helps
to familiarise the audience with the themes. Undertale is famous for its use of leitmotif,
with almost every track referencing at least one other in some way. And that soundtrack is, uhhh… popular, I
suppose? But repetition actually plays a unique role
in video game music in the form of loops. Older games could get away with essentially
hitting play on a track and making it repeat ad infinitum, and while those earworms well
and truly burrowed themselves into our minds they also ran the risk of overstaying their
welcome and getting annoying over time. So as games have become more complex, so too
has the way that music loops are implemented. In Super Metroid’s massive interconnected
world, each of the distinct areas have their own musical theme. The occasional room has its own background
music, such as item rooms or boss fights, but apart from that no matter where you explore
within the area, the background music remains unchanged and just continuously loops. Hollow Knight, released over 20 years later,
shares the same interconnected world design as Super Metroid, and again each distinct
area has its own musical theme. However as you move between the rooms, layers
in the music will fade in and out. A peaceful area might remove the main melody
line… Or a combat trial room might overwhelm it
with frenetic strings. The music loop is constantly evolving, which
enables it to match the shifts in mood on the fly, but possibly in exchange for the
slight memorability that comes from continuous repetition. That’s not to say Hollow Knight’s music
is forgettable, in fact quite the opposite and it’s a great example showing there’s
so much that goes into making a memorable soundtrack. However, one aspect of memorability that I
think is often overlooked is emotion. Music lights up the neural centers of the
brain that are involved in emotions and memory, so we are actually programmed to remember
music that stirs something within us. Melody is brilliant at evoking emotions, but
so too is atmosphere, and what it loses in catchiness, it makes up for in power. I personally cannot hum the tunes from Hyper
Light Drifter, but what I do immediately recall are the feelings of serenity and wonder, of
anxiety and loneliness that it created in me, and that is what makes me look back on
it so fondly years later. Not on an individual note-by-note basis, but
as an experiential whole. Video games have the power to be moving, emotive
experiences, just like any other artform. Sometimes that can be purely due to the music,
other times it can be entirely independent of it, but mostly it’s when all of its aspects
work together to create something greater than the sum of their parts. Ultimately, I don't believe that videogame
music has gotten any less memorable. This channel wouldn't exist if that were the
case, as I have primarily covered games from the 21st century. Perhaps it’s just that the things we remember
about game music has changed. The melodies may not be as catchy or iconic
as they used to be, but as long as games have something to say, and composers are there
to help say it, there will always be music in them that’s worth remembering.
