The Last Ninja Soundtrack (C64)

The Last Ninja Soundtrack (C64), Ben Daglish / Anthony Lees, 1987

The Commodore 64 is home to more than a few legendary titles, and The Last Ninja is undoubtedly one of them. Its development, however, turned out to be unexpectedly protracted after the initial team, Budapest’s SoftView, failed to make headway on the project. System 3’s Mark Cale brought the code back to London, where John Twiddy rewrote the engine for the C64. Cale’s vision for the game was an ambitious one. He envisaged an isometric ninja adventure that would offer players a far more expansive world than the average C64 title. Blending exploration, adventure elements, and arcade-style combat, The Last Ninja struck a chord with both critics and the public, eventually selling around four million copies, according to Cale, and launching a hugely successful franchise.

Like the game itself, The Last Ninja soundtrack has become the stuff of legend, excelling on a platform that was hardly short of outstanding music. Scoring duties fell to the duo of Ben Daglish and Anthony Lees. Daglish had already built up a sizeable portfolio of 8-bit computer soundtracks and was well on his way to becoming one of the decade’s most celebrated game composers. Lees’ involvement was more unexpected. He had entered a competition run by ZZAP! 64 magazine as an April Fool’s joke, and his winning composition caught Cale’s attention. Lees would later write music for Last Ninja 2, though his score was rejected because the developers felt it did not suit the game. Many of the 16-bit titles he later worked on unfortunately remained unpublished before he retired from game music altogether.

A C64 score split between two composers was uncommon. Then again, The Last Ninja was hardly an ordinary 1987 soundtrack. Running to roughly 50 minutes without loops, it was more expansive than almost any other game score of its era. That length resulted not only from the developers requesting a different tune for each level, but also from their asking for a separate composition for every level’s loading screen. Moreover, all three channels of the SID chip were dedicated entirely to music, meaning that Daglish and Lees did not have to sacrifice one for sound effects, a rare luxury on the C64.

The developers’ willingness to give their composers such prime scope for invention did not go unrewarded, though that statement requires a qualifier. In short, Lees’ pieces are solid enough, but beside Daglish’s masterpieces they do fall short. His melodic writing leans more heavily on pentatonic clichés, while his rhythms are less flexible and at times verge on the monotonous. Likewise, while Lees shapes his lengthy cues competently, they lack the same sure sense of development and scale that Daglish brings to his work. A good example is the strangely bouncy ending of “Lower Level Loader” after the low-key moodiness that precedes it. What Lees delivers is a reasonably impressive debut, but he is in the unenviable position of having to compete with some of the finest game music of the 1980s.

Indeed, from the opening notes of “Wastelands Loader”, Daglish announces both his mastery of the SID chip and the breadth of his artistic ambition. These loader pieces were conceived as scene-setters, and he makes the most of the opportunity, constructing an entire aural world within the limits of the available technology. Sweeping glissandi that zoom in and out of view create a suitably mythical Eastern atmosphere without resorting to tired stereotypes. A series of serene melodies further evokes the game’s setting through pentatonic, ceremonially steady progressions, while a constant bass drone reinforces the composition’s meditative undertow. Yet it is not all peaceful reverence; one need only listen to the first lead melody’s quirky upward flicks at the end of each phrase.

The Last Ninja soundtrack continues this subtle, assured mood-building on “Wastelands In-Game”, which opens with only a brief pentatonic figure set against heavy, foreboding bass drones. The composition takes a little time to reveal its full hand, but Daglish strikes gold when he introduces a dramatically rising and falling glissando melody that establishes an irresistible sense of otherworldly drama. Things become more extraordinary still when he harmonises this figure chromatically, giving it not merely a melancholy pull but something stranger and more rarefied. The result is music that feels alien yet grand, carried by a melody whose breadth and unusual contour sweep the listener into a mystical realm like some arcane tidal wave.

Other compositions address more pressing concerns. “Wilderness In-Game” is the score’s first outright action cue. Yet even here Daglish is subtler than one might expect. The agitated, almost panicked melody that opens the piece gradually develops into something more anthemic as it unfolds. Then the tension ratchets upward again as the melodies turn grittier and more determined. At the same time, Daglish cloaks his torrent of notes in a fuzzy sonority that seeps into every corner of the arrangement until the claustrophobia becomes palpable. “Dungeons Loader” is equally adept at sustaining intensity while still allowing room for development. Nowhere else on the score do rhythms and melodies seem to clash so ferociously, especially in the second half, where Daglish’s hyper-compressed, single-minded rhythmic patterns lock together with astonishing atmospheric precision.

These tracks most obviously display Daglish’s virtuoso command of the C64’s sound hardware. More impressive still, however, may be those pieces that combine such adrenaline-fuelled power with the world-building breadth of “Wastelands Loader”. “Palace Gardens In-Game” dares to open with a full minute of nothing but gong strikes and a skittish, high-pitched melody, yet never once loses the listener’s attention. Eventually, of course, the cue mutates into the soundtrack’s densest piece, capped by a note-shredding guitar solo. “Lower Level In-Game” offers the finest marriage of frantic propulsion and CinemaScope-sized scene-setting on the album. It begins with pensive melodies set against unusually heavy rhythms, their calm determination preparing the ground for a spectacular conclusion in which frenzied arpeggios burst forth to lift spiralling melodies ever higher. It is a moment of breathless perfection and flawless complexity, and a fitting conclusion to a masterpiece.