Dark Law: Meaning of Death Soundtrack

Dark Law: Meaning of Death Soundtrack, Satoshi Nagano / Michihiko Shichi, 1997

By 1997, the flow of new SNES software had dwindled to a trickle, yet intriguing titles for the ageing console still appeared here and there. One such game was developer Sakata SAS’ Dark Law: Meaning of Death, the sequel to 1991’s Dark Lord. While the premise of its fantasy narrative was fairly pedestrian — an ancient evil returns and kidnaps the damsel in distress — Dark Law surprised with its unusual take on RPG conventions. Focused less on combat and more on exploration and puzzle-solving, it was considerably less linear than most other JRPGs. Rather than following a clearly delineated path, players selected from a series of short stories or scenarios that eventually became interconnected. True to its ominous title, Dark Law: Meaning of Death also dealt with unusually sombre subject matter, at least by the standards of a 16-bit RPG.

To craft the soundtrack, Sakata SAS hired a team of composers operating under the name Target Laboratory. Led by veteran composer Yusuke Takahama, the group had been active since the mid-1990s. Four of its members worked on Dark Law: Takahama himself as sound producer, Nobuo Horie on sound effects, and Satoshi Nagano and Michihiko Shichi as the principal composers. Both were still relatively new to the industry, though they had already collaborated on earlier Target Laboratory projects such as 1995’s Kat’s Run: Zen-Nippon K Car Senshuken and Tokimeki Card Paradise: Koi no Royal Straight Flush. Nagano’s career appears to have petered out after a few more Target Laboratory titles. Shichi, by contrast, joined developer Omega Force and went on to become sound designer and director for the Samurai Warriors and Dynasty Warriors franchises before moving to tri-Ace, where he sound-directed later Star Ocean titles and Resonance of Fate.

Despite all that, the Dark Law: Meaning of Death soundtrack remains the crowning achievement of both composers. In keeping with the game’s aesthetic, Nagano and Shichi uncover an unusual yet fascinating approach to RPG scoring.

There are, of course, the kind of lushly orchestrated pieces one would expect from an RPG, but these compositions are shaped with exceptional attention to detail and a convincing flair for atmosphere and instrumental colour. Admittedly, the serene flute melody of “Temple Forest” is not in itself surprising, inviting exploration of verdant surroundings. Yet the lead’s unexpected turns and trills, set against silvery layers of plinking percussion, evoke a beguiling mood of mystery, hinting at haunted depths concealed behind nature’s idyll. “A Death Occurs” similarly moves with confidence between emotional registers, as heavy-hearted string writing suddenly and effectively gives way to a bouncy flute melody. “Scenario Clear”, meanwhile, segues beautifully from relaxed flute and string tones to a delightful B section of glockenspiel and harp accents before arriving at a church organ solo over warm plucked bass.

The Dark Law: Meaning of Death soundtrack truly distinguishes itself, however, when it mixes genres like few other SNES scores. “Ending Credits” perhaps offers the clearest summary of Nagano and Shichi’s vision, combining rock drums and metal guitar riffs with slapped funk bass, chiming synths, and church organ leads. The closest comparison for this eclectic language is the signature sound of the Castlevania series — and it speaks volumes for this score’s quality that it can stand toe to toe with that hallowed franchise at its strongest.

Variations on this formula appear in pieces such as “Masaki Head”. The composition skilfully merges thick string writing and metallic chimes with a slapped bass line that drives the track onwards until it reaches a determinedly rising string melody, beautifully underscoring the mountainous setting. “Shanoah Town” leans more heavily on contemporary colours, its steely bass line now accompanying almost swinging rock-organ melodies. It is fitting music for a more urban location, yet the cue never loses the earthiness already established in the earlier nature tracks, subtly connecting the two realms.

The element that ultimately comes to dominate these genre-bending cues, though, is what may be the SNES’ heaviest and most convincing metal guitar work and drumming. To be clear, this is not the melodic, high-speed metal often heard in game soundtracks that dabble in the genre. Nagano and Shichi instead favour much slower, doom-laden riffing that recalls early 1970s Black Sabbath — a fitting musical counterpart to a game with a title like this.

These hammering riffs and pummelling drums relentlessly drive a track like “Boss Battle” forward, while a gathering thunderstorm of synth effects swirls around the pounding rhythms and grimly determined organ lead. What is remarkable, however, is that Nagano and Shichi do not use metal simply to energise the music. Rather, they draw on its suffocating heaviness to construct mood pieces and deepen the score’s distinctive atmosphere. “Fangi Forest Temple” is a particularly striking example, preparing the entrance of its thundering guitar riffs with acoustic textures such as chromatic string lines and an acoustic guitar solo. It begins as “forest music” of the sort one might expect from an RPG of the era, before its metal stylings push the cue into uncharted territory without undoing the carefully established ambience.

Even more intriguing are the tracks in which the Dark Law: Meaning of Death soundtrack reveals its final trump card: its clever use of electronics. Look closely at the game’s cover art and one sees a skull floating before a swirling galaxy; Nagano and Shichi’s music mirrors that suggestion of cosmic, unfathomable forces at work. “South Creek Ruins” introduces a subterranean, strikingly heavy synth-bass lead whose nature is difficult to pin down, somewhere between drone, pulse, and voluminous, elastic melody. In other words, it is as inscrutable as the powers hinted at in Dark Law’s artwork. The same bass returns in “Sealed Cave”, where it powers the track’s single-minded aggression and focus, while in “Good Ending Sequence” it never quite allows the triumphant orchestral strains to dominate. It is another element that makes this score such a surprising and arresting work.