Wonder Project J Soundtrack

Wonder Project J Soundtrack, Akihiko Mori, 1994

The SNES is not exactly known for an abundance of adventure games, a genre that flourished much more strongly on PCs than on consoles in the mid-1990s. Even so, a few gems are hidden away in the system’s library, and the Japan-only Wonder Project J is undoubtedly one of them. More than that, it may well be one of the most singularly creative games on the platform, which helps explain the cult following it has gradually amassed. Drawing on The Adventures of Pinocchio, Astro Boy, and some of Hayao Miyazaki’s films, Wonder Project J has the player indirectly guide a young android boy named Pino. Though there is a story to complete, the central task is to teach and shape this naïve child, praising and scolding him for his behaviour. His instinctive response to any unfamiliar object, after all, is simply to eat it.

Wonder Project J comes alive through its gorgeous pixel art and lavish animation. That visual charm is matched by an equally beautiful soundtrack from Akihiko Mori. Mori had already scored developer Almanic’s previous title, Shien’s Revenge, leaving a mark with one of the most opulently orchestrated SNES soundtracks written up to that point. He brings the same sensibility to Wonder Project J. This time, however, the more varied narrative gives him greater opportunity to draw out his melodic gifts.

As one would expect from almost any screenshot of Wonder Project J, much of the game radiates a sunny, optimistic outlook, and Mori underscores it with bright orchestral colours touched by pop influences. These are most audible in the music’s catchy rhythms and some of its melodic turns. Their presence also neatly reflects the game’s obvious anime sensibilities.

Pop was not a style Mori had explored particularly deeply before, yet he handles it here with complete assurance. “Piece” is a perfect example of how seamlessly he can fuse rich orchestral writing with pop instincts, from its hook-laden string melody to its buoyant drum-kit accompaniment. “Treasure” is less elaborate, but its transformation from tender piano solo into a rushing, enthusiastic pop tune is just as irresistible. The same broad appeal defines “Theme”, which introduces what would become the main melody of the Wonder Project J series, a tune shaped quite clearly like a vocal line.

Inevitably, parts of the score can feel like the soundtrack to a very, very classy children’s cartoon. Yet, as on the later Gokinjo Bouken Tai, Mori never talks down to his audience. He treats the score’s child-friendly side with the same seriousness he gives its near-symphonic splendour. “March” is comical rather than imposing, while “Sport”, a xylophone-led dash supported by oompah-like double-bass rhythms, initially seems to veer towards obvious mickey-mousing. But then the cue opens out into a full-bodied orchestral scherzo packed with frantic activity. Likewise, even though “Circus” ticks all the expected boxes for such a setting, Mori shapes it into a varied, fully worked-out composition that rises above mere genre routine.

The game’s broader emotional range, compared to Lock On and Shien’s Revenge, also gives Mori more room than ever to display his gifts as a melodicist. What is remarkable is how effortlessly he combines this newfound lyricism with the trademark complexity of his orchestrations. “House”, for instance, realises its rustic atmosphere through recorder and cello solos over pizzicato strings. Yet those melodies are not just carefree; they are intricately interwoven, with Mori layering as many as three lines at once to create a sound that is intimate and lush in equal measure. “Messala” achieves something similar while characterising the game’s antagonist through Baroque-inflected writing, including a melody that bears more than a passing resemblance to that of a more famous villain, Final Fantasy VI’s Kefka. The motoric drive of its string figures suits a cold, powerful character, but what lifts the track above cliché is, once again, Mori’s sheer compositional command as three separate string melodies move in counterpoint.

That level of complexity and ambition reaches its breathtaking summit in “Staff Roll”. Taking the game’s main theme as its basis, the cue becomes a flawlessly structured orchestral extravaganza of the highest order, compressing the entire emotional and musical world of Wonder Project J into five whirlwind minutes overflowing with ideas and colours. This is concert-hall-quality orchestral music written for the SNES, and very few other pieces on the system reach the same extraordinary standard.

For all the whimsy of Wonder Project J’s surface, conflict is by no means absent from its world. A simmering struggle between humans and androids is ready to erupt. Yet little of that tension makes itself strongly felt in Mori’s score. There are battle themes, certainly, but relatively little else that suggests mounting danger. Instead, what gently offsets the soundtrack’s buoyancy is an underlying current of nostalgia. Heard throughout the score, whether in the harpsichord accompaniment of “Piece” or the fiddle lead in “Mimi’s House”, this sense of longing finds its clearest expression in “Song”. There the game’s main theme is presented as a wistful melody sung by a synthesised boy soprano. The effect is striking: the cue effortlessly communicates Pino’s innocence and warmth, as well as his longing to become human.

Just before “Staff Roll”, “Memories” reprises the theme in a similar spirit and expands on that treatment through delicate woodwind leads over soft strings. The mood is dreamy, touched by a hint of sadness at the thought that the adventure is ending and drifting into the distance. It is a feeling that Wonder Project J2 would later explore more fully.