1992 Archives - The Greatest Game Music

Dune Soundtrack (PC)

Dune Soundtrack (PC), Stéphane Picq, 1992

It feels like early media adaptations of Frank Herbert’s sci-fi epic Dune were doomed to run into equally epic troubles during their production. There’s, of course, the convoluted story of how Dune finally reached cinema screens in 1984 after more than a decade of failed attempts, only to disappoint at the box office and alienate its director. The first video game adaptation of Dune equally struggled to actually see the light of day – to the point where publisher Virgin Games cancelled the game (and launched the development of what would become Dune II), only to find out later that Cryo Interactive had secretly continued work on Dune. Thankfully, there was a happy ending to the story. Due to its innovative mix of adventure and strategy elements, Dune became a commercial hit, with 300,000 units sold by 1997, paving the way for Cryo’s expansion and prolific output throughout the 1990s.

In their assessments, contemporary reviewers put unusual emphasis on Stéphane Picq’s soundtrack for Dune. Picq’s work soon became part of game music history when Virgin Records released an arrange album titled Dune – Spice Opera. At this point in time, album releases of Western game music were nearly unheard of, so for a European game soundtrack to receive an arrange album was entirely unexpected. The work left its mark – when online game music criticism started to pop up in the late 1990s and early 2000s, Dune – Spice Opera garnered rave reviews for its unusual and creative aesthetics. It remains a fan favourite, its official release in Europe making it one of the first pieces of game music available for purchase by budding fans of the art form.

Thankfully, it is not just the arrange album that deserves such high accolades, but the source material itself is worthy of praise. Picq had been writing scores for several French PC games since 1988, making his debut for Cryo Interactive in 1990 on the company’s first game Extase. Dune was doubtlessly his breakthrough work, heralding him as an exciting new voice in game music (a reputation he would uphold on future works for Cryo).

His vision for the planet of Dune is far more psychedelic and less militaristic than that of Frank Klepacki and other composers on future franchise scores. What Picq creates is remarkably similar to what Frank Herbert achieved with Dune. More than any other work of science fiction before it, Dune conjured up a believable fictional world in all its complexity, described in painstaking detail. Similarly, Picq devises a soundtrack that takes its cues from existing (musical) cultures but then twists these into something unique – authentic world music (if the term is permitted here) for an imaginary planet.

Consequently, the Dune soundtrack is an exceedingly skilful combination of contrasts. Familiar electronic sci-fi soundscapes mesh with acoustic elements in calmly monolithic compositions. Their gently surreal nature aspires to the same kind of mysticism that Herbert used to heighten the book’s narrative scope and impact (the word “Opera” in the arrange album’s title is no accident, such is the music’s breadth). It’s tempting to say Dune’s woozy nature is only the natural result of a work whose story ultimately hinges upon the harvesting of a drug. However trippy the music may be though, it harnesses its heady inclinations to concoct compositions that are both spiritualistic and earthy.

The Dune soundtrack’s best demonstration of these qualities is “Chani’s Eyes”. The cue distils the score’s minimalist, yet tonally rich brand of synth ostinati, chiming melody fragments and synth interpretations of middle-eastern music into an entrancing example of Picq’s unique soundscapes. Crystallising the soundtrack’s undercurrent of melancholia and freezing it in time, “Chani’s Eyes” is the score’s calmest composition and truly a trip into outer space. On the other end of the spectrum we find “Free Men”. Now the music turns into a colourful, quirky tapestry of musical activity, including wooden percussion, flutes and a mysterious harpsichord-like melody. The whole construct is held aloft by synth ostinati that take unpredictable harmonic turns, fraying at the edges in the unforgiving desert heat. Again, Picq takes recognisably terrestrial music styles and adds just enough sci-fi synths to tweak them into something alien, yet still embracing.

It’s this intermingling of technology and ancient tradition, set to unusually languid tempi, that sets the Dune soundtrack apart from so many other 1990s sci-fi video game scores, at times evoking the now retro-futuristic mood of 70s prog rock. “Opening” sets the score’s peculiar mood early on. Both futuristic and warm, its organ-like opening chords give way to irregular, full-bodied electronic (heart)beats, wooden percussion and harsher synths that subtly shift from interrupting the almost religious atmosphere to finally complementing it. Music fit for an extraterrestrial cathedral, “Opening” establishes both the soundtrack’s drifting atmosphere and its immense scale.

Like a prayer, the music’s import isn’t diminished by its understated nature – and so a track like “Dune (Variation)” requires no overt sonic bombast to achieve grandeur. Underscoring the Arrakis palace, the cue feels appropriately weightier than other pieces, but that’s solely due to its heightened sense of foreboding and wistfulness, conscious of the expectations placed upon Paul Atreides as heir to the throne. Synth pads and melodies feel more yearning than usual before a flute solo’s lonesome nature drives home the point and effectively contrasts with the lusher synth sounds.

For a game that’s ultimately about conquering a planet, the Dune soundtrack doesn’t deliver much in terms of outright action music, but it’s not without more pressing moments. “Too” carries a greater sense of urgency in its mix of wooden and electronic ostinati, while a four-note synth melody underscores scouring the endless deserts of Dune in solitude. Suddenly, silvery arpeggios turn those endless dunes into an unexpectedly magical place, contrasting brilliantly with the arid atmosphere of the track’s A section.

World map theme “Wake Up” is the closest that Picq comes to writing a march on this score. He steadfastly builds the cue over snare drums and electric bass rhythms into a composition that encompasses both the constant onward drive of conquest and the sheer majesty of gazing from above at a vast world. It’s a sensation that the music communicates far better than the game’s visuals. Indeed, as far as sci-fi game soundtracks go, few have evoked the enticing spell of living in another world as potently as Dune.

Conversation notes

Many of Dune’s ports ultimately didn’t eventuate, leaving only versions for the Amiga and the Sega CD. The Amiga port only includes three tracks, making it an inferior option by default – even though it includes a piece exclusive to this version (“Ecolove” – solid, but not a standout cue).

One might assume that the Sega CD port would fall back on the Red Book audio tracks from the Dune – Spice Opera arrange album, but that’s not the case. Instead, the game sticks to the original PC compositions, arranging them for the Sega Genesis’ YM2612 sound chip. The result is clearer and more forceful than what’s heard on the Ad Lib sound card version of Dune, which is most commonly referenced. However – as with the score’s Roland MT-32 version – more realistic and booming renditions don’t benefit music that thrives on its dream-like, hazy nature. As a result, Picq’s score feels heavy-handed and lacks that diffuse, all-enveloping ambience when rendered on a Roland MT-32 sound card or the Sega CD.

01 - Sign Of The Worm (Opening) Picq, Stéphane 2:52
02 - Spice Opera (Introduction) Picq, Stéphane 6:33
03 - Dune (Variation) (Arrakeen Palace) Picq, Stéphane 5:47
04 - Too (Ornithopter) Picq, Stéphane 2:18
05 - Wake Up (Map Of Arrakis) Picq, Stéphane 3:32
06 - Free Men (Ergsun Sietch) Picq, Stéphane 3:09
07 - Chani's Eyes Picq, Stéphane 4:57

Erik the Viking Soundtrack

Erik the Viking Soundtrack, Neil Baldwin, 1992

It’s a shame that Neil Baldwin wrote his two best NES soundtracks for games that in the end were shelved. At least game music fans discovered Hero Quest‘s excellent score once the game’s developer released the ROM online. On the other hand, Baldwin’s second cancelled project Erik the Viking was pretty much unknown. That is, until Baldwin posted the soundtrack on his website Duty Cycle Generator.

Action adventures like Erik the Viking require a fair amount of world building, and in this undertaking, the music has to pull its weight too. As such, the Erik the Viking soundtrack required Baldwin to create a more varied and larger score than what he had previously written on the NES. He rises to the challenge quite formidably, as Erik the Viking pushes Baldwin’s music into previously unexplored territory.

Right from the start, Baldwin proves he’s keen to expand his musical palette. Opening track “To the Death” is his first NES battle cue. Baldwin applies the same lush arpeggio sound he had presented on Hero Quest. But this time there’s a dissonant grittiness to Baldwin’s torrent of notes that imbues the music with the right amount of adrenaline and even panic. Metallic clanging and brief notes of static noise make the music even more intense. However, Baldwin also carries over from Hero Quest his ability to inject his arpeggio sequences with sufficiently melodic elements.

Fellow combat cue “Labyrinth Battle” is short, but still intrigues with its stuttering rhythm work. Rounding out the trio of enemy-related compositions is Erik the Viking‘s dungeon theme “Caves”. In lesser hands, the cue’s sparse sound and reliance on sound effects and musical fragments could have resulted in boredom. Receiving Baldwin’s virtuoso treatment, “Caves”’ instead feels like a wander through a dark underground tunnel, mysterious and alluring flashes of light and colour suddenly shooting out of the shadows and retreating seconds later.

Another significant change that the Erik the Viking soundtrack brings to Baldwin’s music is an unprecedented focus on melodies. Again, Hero Quest already introduced this tendency, but the music still married its melodies to Baldwin’s trademark dense textures. On Erik the Viking on the other hand, Baldwin is happy to reduce the complexity of his compositions. Be it “Village Life”, “Dragon Dance” or “Land of Sorrow”, they all put their pleasing, sometimes memorable melodies front and centre, and just let them do their job. At times it almost feels as if Baldwin stays out of the music’s way.

However, these compositions don’t receive any less attention and care from him than the rest of the score. Just check out the subtle, lovely tremolo effects at the end of each phrase in “Village Life”’s A section, or the booming drum sound on the folksy “Dragon Dance” that Baldwin borrows from Hero Quest‘s final cue. Sequenced together at the end of the album, these cues don’t match the brilliance of the Erik the Viking soundtrack’s best compositions and make for a slightly more low-key finale than expected. Still, they appropriately set the scene for closing track “Giant’s Harp (Peace Restored)”. Its happily drifting tune has the required sense of fulfilment and shows Baldwin at his closest to JRPG musical conventions.

All this already covers a larger emotional spectrum than any of Baldwin’s previous NES scores. The album’s crowning achievement though are a trio of early tracks on the Erik the Viking soundtrack. The most conventional cue of the bunch, “Spirit of Adventure” is as upbeat and enterprising as you would expect from a great over world theme, with some carefully added syncopations in the rhythm section for added intrigue. With its fluid development and expert use of counter melodies, “Spirit of Adventure” is Baldwin’s most melodically ambitious NES composition.

“Peace in the Harbour” perfectly puts its title into music. The composition’s calm walking bass line, convincingly simulated seagull cries and one of Baldwin’s wonderfully warm and emotional arpeggio lines all radiate contentment. Suitably laid back, “Peace in the Harbour”’s best idea is a pitch bend sound repeated over three octaves. It’s a striking innovation that somehow manages to sound both ethereal and just a bit quirky.

Lastly, “New Dawn (Erik the Viking Theme)” brings the soundtrack’s high adventure ambitions to a head in surprising fashion. Rather than writing a dashing main theme, Baldwin opts for a more esoteric approach. Dream-like melody fragments rise and fall over constant arpeggios swells – the shadows of grey ships about to emerge from the fog, before the hazy curtain swallows them again. The music slowly solidifies its melodic elements, before a steady drum beat sets in. Balancing the music’s drifting quality, the drums complete the track’s quietly monumental character. With its constant arpeggios, serene melody and persistent, ritualistic rhythms, “New Dawn (Erik the Viking Theme)” is one of those 8-bit compositions that transcends technical limitations and harnesses the specific character of its medium – an ancient myth evoked through nothing but four simple sound channels.

01 - To the Death Neil Baldwin 1:19
02 - Peace in the Harbour Neil Baldwin 3:14
03 - Spirit of Adventure Neil Baldwin 2:50
04 - New Dawn (Erik's Theme) Neil Baldwin 3:09
05 - Labyrinth Battle Neil Baldwin 0:41
06 - Village Life Neil Baldwin 2:05
07 - Caves Neil Baldwin 1:55
08 - Dragon Dance Neil Baldwin 1:31
09 - Consequences Neil Baldwin 1:31
10 - Land of Sorrow Neil Baldwin 0:51
11 - Giant's Harp (Peace Restored) Neil Baldwin 1:46

Nobunaga’s Ambition: Haouden Soundtrack (PC-98 – Soundware Version)

Nobunaga’s Ambition: Haouden Soundtrack (PC-98), Yoko Kanno, 1992

As with previous instalments of the Nobunaga’s Ambition franchise, KOEI only tweaked details for its fifth instalment, Haouden. Clearly KOEI had hit upon a winning formula, happy to churn these games out to an audience hungry for their fix of historic strategy games that prioritised gameplay depth over fancy graphics. Not surprisingly, what stood out most about Haouden’s presentation was its soundtrack, provided by series regular Yoko Kanno.

Kanno had been given the opportunity to record previous franchise scores with live performers – a rare occurrence in video game music at the time. And thankfully, KOEI seemed willing to increase the music budget for each subsequent Nobunaga’s Ambition title. Bushou Fuuunroku had benefited from a mostly live ensemble – a chamber music-sized orchestra supplemented by a few solo performers and synths. For the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Haouden soundtrack, KOEI went one step further and hired a larger ensemble, now amounting to a small symphony orchestra.

Since Bushou Fuuuroko, Kanno had only become more confident in her writing, delivering what was arguably her first masterpiece with The Creation in 1991. And Haouden clearly bears out the fact that the early 1990s saw Kanno quickly maturing as a composer. Bushou Fuuuroku – despite its creative treatment of its subject matter – was easily read as the score for a history game set in medieval Japan, based on a tasteful mix of classical Japanese and Western music with dashes of electronica.

The Nobunaga’s Ambition: Haouden soundtrack sees Kanno expanding her palette further, coming up with timbre and instrument combinations she hadn’t tapped into before. Haouden is an important work in Kanno’s transition towards her trademark eclecticism, while showcasing her ability to deliver a stylistically consistent work (1990’s Uncharted Waters was arguably more diverse than Haouden, but also fairly disjointed). As a result, Haouden comes up with some unexpected but immaculately executed approaches to scoring its time period.

Take “Beyond the Auspicious Clouds” and its gentle, languid flute solo set against a sparse backdrop of traditional Japanese percussion – and xylophone. Kanno constructs a long-spun, ravishing melody with a dreamy lull and full of subtle harmonic surprises, making the piece an constant delight. But there’s more to the composition still. On the one hand, its flute lead evokes pastoral images of serene landscape and plays into scoring conventions for period settings. On the other hand, there’s a jazzy undercurrent to the flute melody that becomes particularly obvious during the piece’s second half, aided by the xylophone’s warm, almost sensuous backing. It’s an elegant way to mix in genre influences you wouldn’t expect to see in a game about feuding Japanese warlords.

This sense of genial – and almost always successful – experimentation marks the entire Nobunaga’s Ambition: Haouden soundtrack. “Blue Whitecaps” furthers the game’s jazz credentials, switching to the sort of light jazz that would characterise Kanno’s Uncharted Waters II the following year. Any lingering thoughts of serious, historic subject matter are gone when a clipped, bouncy cello melody dances with catchy piano backing to charm listeners, before the piece leads into a laid-back guitar solo and hand percussion rhythms. There’s an easy-going feel of improvisation here that suits “Blue Whitecaps”’ jazzy inclinations perfectly.

“Unrecognised Genius” is equally light in its orchestration, but turns out more impassioned. A nearly five-minute pan flute solo with gentle synth backing, “Unrecognised Genius” can’t avoid comparisons with Ennio Morricone’s masterful Once Upon a Time in America. However, the fact that Kanno’s composition is as moving – and arguable melodically more complex – than Morricone’s work speaks volumes about her melodic genius. Again, her choice of solo instrument is inspired, as it does evoke a sense of ancient history, but again using timbres not usually heard in games set in medieval Japan.

What “Unrecognised Genius” also proves is Kanno’s desire to develop her compositions beyond the confines of what was often feasible within game music at the time. Her compositions on Haouden run significantly longer than those on Bushou Fuuuroku. Also, many of the chiptunes and live versions of that earlier soundtrack’s pieces were fairly similar. That’s not the case on Haouden. Here, Kanno usually opens her live piece by stating the melodic material of the respective chiptunes cue, but then deviates significantly, composing entirely new material.

Setting the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Haouden soundtrack further apart from typical period scores are a couple of compositions where synthesisers play a significant role. “Gathering Under the Pleiades” is the soundtrack’s most intriguing concoction. It pits a quena solo against a subdued, but curiously unsettled synth background that doesn’t evoke benign starry skies, but instead an unsettling view of the otherworld. The cue’s heady effect is quite unexpected and its emotional pull – pitting man against a threatening universe – is as strong as anything Kanno creates on this album. Closing vocal piece “Comet” creates the same sense of uneasy wonder, evoking a similar mood to “Sóra” from Kanno’s Escaflowne: The Movie. If there is one thing that sets Haouden apart from previous Nobunaga’s Ambition scores then, it’s the album breadth of moods, ranging from the comical to the cosmic – achieving a sense of sweeping scale through unusual means.

That being said, Kanno does deliver some good old-fashioned orchestral bombast on the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Haouden soundtrack as well. Album bookends “Supreme Ruler Introduction” and “Morning Bell” showcase how quickly Kanno has matured since Bushou Fuuuroku. Both compositions are full of youthful sturm und drang – sample the Tchaikovskian pathos of “Supreme Ruler Introduction”’s piano concerto-style introduction. Later on, rhythmically complex contrapuntal motions in the deep strings provide surprisingly hard-edged, exciting counterpoint to the romantic lead melody. However, it’s also here that the album’s biggest drawback becomes obvious. The recording sounds boxy and muddy, particularly effecting the album’s richly layered and densely orchestrated pieces. It’s a shortcoming that befalls many soundtracks recorded on Japanese soundstages and not a big surprise, but it’s still hard not to wish for a better representation of Kanno’s stellar work.

Still, that doesn’t change the fact that a composition like “Morning Bell” is among the greatest orchestral game music cues ever written, a piece of nearly symphonic scale that flows with astonishing confidence as it takes its theme through an astonishing number of variations. Haouden’s remaining orchestral pieces are less breathtaking, but still substantial. “Rainy Desolation” reprises the piano concerto-format, with an agitated string melody backed by a tightly-woven piano line, sublimating the cue’s emotional turmoil into music of great elegance and riveting emotional tension.

“Destructive Army” is a fairly straightforward take on its chiptunes equivalent. However, Kanno clads the cue’s relatively thin material in sufficiently dramatic orchestrations while also varying the composition’s substance just enough (the fact that the mid-section’s urging rhythms effectively pay homage to Richard Wagner’s perennial favourite “Ride of the Valkyries” helps). Interestingly, “Destructive Army” is the only battle cue on the album – then again, even the soundtrack’s longer chiptunes equivalents only had three action pieces. It’s another sign that Kanno’s approach to scoring the Nobunaga’s Ambition franchise’s period setting kept changing, producing ever more intriguing results.

Conversion notes

Nobunaga’s Ambition: Haouden saw the number of ports that these games received decline – a result of consolidation within the Japanese console and PC market. As previously, the chiptunes versions of the score effectively all use the same material. Said material is significantly more substantial than on Bushou Fuuuroku and far more melodic. That being said, pieces are still rather short and generally pleasant rather than great (with exceptions like “Morning Bell”).

The Sharp X68000 and FM Towns versions of the score are fairly similar, with the FM Towns port a bit less synthy sounding and with a slightly greater range of colours. The Sega Genesis port doesn’t sound too different either, but has fewer tracks than the computer versions. For some reason, the SNES game is also lacking some tracks. At least the sample quality is better than on Bushou Fuuuroku, although it’s still not outstanding. The Sega CD port simply includes the redbook audio found on the PC-98 CD version, while the 3DO game interestingly includes a range of compositions from Haouden and previous Nobunaga’s Ambition live instrumental scores – a consistently strong franchise best of, if you want.

01 - Supreme Ruler Introduction Kanno, Yoko 3:22
02 - Unrecognised Genius Kanno, Yoko 4:58
03 - Blue Whitecaps Kanno, Yoko 4:10
04 - Beyond the Auspicious Clouds Kanno, Yoko 4:03
05 - Rainy Desolation Kanno, Yoko 1:39
06 - Destructive Army Kanno, Yoko 2:37
07 - Days of Sunshine Kanno, Yoko 2:43
08 - Gathering Under the Pleiades Kanno, Yoko 3:43
09 - Morning Bell Kanno, Yoko 5:42
10 - Comet Kanno, Yoko 3:34
11 - Unrecognised Genius (Reprise) Kanno, Yoko 1:52

Tamashii no Mon – Dante Shinkyoku yori Soundtrack (Soundware Version)

Tamashii no Mon – Dante Shinkyoku yori Soundtrack, Masumi Ito / Yoshiyuki Ito / Fiori Wakakuwa, 1992

It turns out 2010’s God of War clone Dante’s Inferno wasn’t the first video game based on Dante Alighieri’s 14th-century poem The Divine Comedy. But maybe that’s no surprise, given the work’s towering literary status and its vivid imagery of Hell’s nine circles, making it ripe for adaptations into other media. Another game inspired by The Divine Comedy was Koei’s Tamashii no Mon – Dante no Shinkyoku yori (literally: Gate of Souls – From Dante’s Divine Comedy). As one might expect, players assume Dante’s role as he struggles to find his way through the depths of Hell. The developers cast the game as an adventure title with platforming and melee elements while making excellent use of the ageing PC-98’s graphical capabilities. The clever use of a limited colour palette combined with fantastic sprite art truly brought the game’s nightmarish settings to live.

For the game’s soundtrack, the developers turned to Masumi Ito, Yoshiyuki Ito and Fiori Wakakuwa, who composed the Tamashii no Mon – Dante no Shinkyoku yori soundtrack under the moniker of hyym. There’s little information available on Wakakuwa’s work – his only other credits seem to be Koei’s Super Mahjong Taikai and Inindo: Way of the Ninja. The opposite is true for the wife and husband team of Masumi and Yoshiyuki Ito. Starting their careers as arrangers and composers on various Koei titles, they continued to arrange game music into the mid-1990s for numerous album releases – including Super Metroid, Virtua Fighter and Donkey Kong Country. They then moved into anime scoring. Masumi Ito also launched a career as a singer with several solo albums and Yoshiyuki Ito worked as Head Music Producer of Lantis – both artists amassing an impressive discography of 100+ titles each.

Scoring Hell is a tantalising prospect for composers – it gives them license to dabble in unusual sounds as the artists seek to match this most dreadful of locations aurally. And do the Itos and Wakakuwa ever make the most of this opportunity to delve head-first into some bizarre sonic experiments. The Tamashii no Mon – Dante no Shinkyoku yori soundtrack turns out to be a roiling cauldron that combines an astonishing number of musical genres and ideas into a unique whole. It follows a similar approach as many Castlevania scores, mixing a generally Gothic mood with modern influences. However, this score goes way further in providing a fresh take on tradition – at times, it feels like the heady nature of a 70s prog-rock concept album collides head-on with early 90s electronica.

Take “Techno Troubadour”, the soundtrack’s most optimistic – and genre-bending – cue. Its opening lithe lute melody suits the game’s medieval inspiration well – before a pumping 80s R&B bassline kicks in, soon mixing with a house-style piano lead. And that’s before the composition truly takes off, adding a rapturous solo violin on top of a harpsichord and all the other elements mentioned above. It’s wholly idiosyncratic but works wonderfully well and creates a uniquely uplifting (if also confounding) mix of musical styles. In this kind of environment, a children’s choir (Masumi Ito’s voice overdubbed several times) singing the lute melody hardly feels out of place and matches the cue’s brief bout of elation.

As you would expect, most of the Tamashii no Mon – Dante no Shinkyoku yori soundtrack is a sombre affair, witnessed from the get-go by opening track “Divine Comedy Renaissance”. Faintly reminiscent of new-age band Enigma, the cue mixes more traditional elements (a stately church organ) with dance rhythms and simple, dramatic synth melodies. It’s an effective opener, although it can’t help but feel a bit tame compared to what’s yet to come – and those lusty female vocals intoning “Porta del inferno!” are cheesily melodramatic. Then again, they’re testament to the composers’ dedication to throwing just about anything they can think of at the wall for this score – and surprisingly enough, a lot of it sticks.

Indeed, while several cues here sound like the composers threw a truckload of disparate ideas into a blender, their compositions ultimately come together remarkably well. These are consistently atmospheric pieces, sometimes bordering on the surreal – but then again, that’s only appropriate given the game’s setting. And throughout the entire soundtrack, the composers continuously find new ways to mix new and old. For example, “Dark Forest”’s ominous synth washes and trip-hop beats, combined with abrasive glissandi and disorienting sound effects, already generate an atmosphere thick with dread and foreboding. On top of that, the music then achieves unexpected, twisted grandeur through the addition of an operatic alto solo. “Wise’s Man’s Hill” similarly uses operatic vocals to move listeners, but now contrasting voices with a calm, pop-influenced piano ballad that turns into a lushly dreamy section including chimes, uplifting synth pads – and fluttering bird sounds.

Part of the reason why the Tamashii no Mon – Dante no Shinkyoku yori soundtrack manages to combine traditional and contemporary influences so well is the composers’ firm grasp of effective orchestral writing. Take “Malebolge”’s well-developed, lengthy deep string melodies that create the tragic gravitas one would expect from a score about lost souls fighting their way out of Hell. But then eerie, distant chanting and entirely unexpected computer noise effects add an effectively alien dimension to these familiar, classical strains. “Vengeful Witch” takes things a step further. Symphonic bombast, more operatic vocals, and harsh, processed orchestra hits battle with stuttering beats and manipulated voice samples. The latter turn hardly recognisable male vocals into a scat singing rhythm instrument and female voices into transcendentally abrasive, blinding rays of light. For a while, it’s the score’s most psychedelic, out-there piece.

But just like there’s logic to the compositions’ madcap genre patchwork, there’s a discernible arc to the Tamashii no Mon – Dante no Shinkyoku yori soundtrack – and so things must get weirder still before it’s all over. There’s method to the composers’ madness, as they bring things to a head once the score’s conclusion looms.

“Pluto’s Cliff – Styx” takes the crown as the soundtrack’s most challenging composition – no small feat. At first, a forlorn flute lead dances atop trip-hop beats and an organ ostinato that soon turns into a surprisingly fully-fledged solo. Manipulated choral voices that are cut off prematurely before the end of each phrase enter, before a screeching violin solo screams from the deepest circles of Hell. And finally, the cue goes for the kill when a free-jazz alto sax and an electric guitar furiously tear each other to shreds in an exhilarating three-minute avantgarde noise showdown, mercilessly driven onwards by ritualistic percussion. It’s unlike anything heard in game music up to this point, and in its visceral, blasted intensity, the track is entirely appropriate for the terrifying locations it underscores.

But finally, Dante’s journey must lead into the light. “Purgatory” is a bit on the lengthy side, but maybe that’s appropriate for music accompanying the slow transition from heaven to Hell. After a string dirge and agonised violin material, austere electronic pulses trade places with 80s synths à la Vangelis (who once wrote a concept album called Heaven and Hell). These tenderly flowing episodes offer languid passages of uninterrupted, patiently developed melodic beauty with their swelling, yearning tones. Closing track “The Spheres of Heaven” develops this mood further without ever falling into saccharine clichés. These lavishly scored celestial realms remain a strange domain, despite all the tinkling chimes and tolling bells. It’s the final destination of an awe-inspiring aural journey that tells its epic tale with as much gravity as one could hope for – only in entirely unusual ways that still have no equal in the realms of game music.

01 - Dark Forest Ito, Masumi / Ito, Yoshiyuki / Wakakuwa, Fiori 4:26
02 - Wise Man's Hill Ito, Masumi / Ito, Yoshiyuki / Wakakuwa, Fiori 5:53
03 - Vengeful Witch Ito, Masumi / Ito, Yoshiyuki / Wakakuwa, Fiori 4:39
04 - Techno Troubadour Ito, Masumi / Ito, Yoshiyuki / Wakakuwa, Fiori 3:04
05 - Malebolge Ito, Masumi / Ito, Yoshiyuki / Wakakuwa, Fiori 3:42
06 - Pluto's Cliff - The Styx Ito, Masumi / Ito, Yoshiyuki / Wakakuwa, Fiori 7:19
07 - Cocytus Ito, Masumi / Ito, Yoshiyuki / Wakakuwa, Fiori 5:33
09 - The Spheres of Heaven Ito, Masumi / Ito, Yoshiyuki / Wakakuwa, Fiori 3:33

Terminator 2: Judgment Day Soundtrack (NES)

Terminator 2: Judgment Day Soundtrack (NES), Geoff Follin, 1992

If you take a closer look at the history of movies and their video game adaptations, James Cameron’s 1991 Terminator 2: Judgment Day emerges as a watershed moment. At the time of its release, T2 became one of the highest-grossing movies of all time worldwide. Its futuristic, action-packed plot and revolutionary visuals made T2 an obvious candidate for a video game adaptation. What’s more, the film was released when the home video game market had diversified and matured, to the point where it could simultaneously support two console generations. The result was a glut of T2-related games, followed soon by numerous titles based on The Terminator. The creators of Terminator 2: Judgment Day were undoubtedly aware of video games’ commercial potential. After all, the film’s end credits finished with a message reading, “Play the hit Nintendo game from Acclaim/LJN Entertainment.”

In the end, that game took nearly seven months to arrive, hitting the NES in 1992, with conversions to the Master System and Game Gear to follow. Coming from LJN, few contemporary reviewers were surprised to find the game a frustrating, at best middling affair – although the developers at Software Creations had at least made an effort to follow the film’s storyline closely. The game really shone with its soundtrack, penned by Geoff Follin on one of the few occasions where he didn’t share scoring duties with his brother Tim.

Geoff is on record saying that – despite sporting one of the most impressive discographies of any NES composer – his “heart was never really into it.” You certainly couldn’t tell from listening to the Terminator 2: Judgment Day soundtrack. This is a score that turns out to be one of the most daring and experimental works written for the NES. There’s a resemblance to David Wise’s later Battletoads soundtrack, in that both composers undermine chiptune action scoring conventions. But while Wise twists these tropes into something new yet recognisable, Geoff almost entirely throws them out of the window. Neither score is meant to simply motivate gamers and fire them up for battle. However, T2 goes a few steps further and aims to creep out and unsettle listeners – ultimately convincing them that the struggle for the future is lost.

“Title Screen” is the Terminator 2: Judgment Day soundtrack’s most conventional composition, but it already plants the seeds for the score’s dystopian mood that will be fully realised later. The usual technical wizardry expected from a Follin score is evident in the track’s powerfully stomping drums, a fantastically grooving, elastic bassline and lushly cascading arpeggios that subtly hint at melodies amidst the torrent of notes. Despite the obvious absence of stereo effects on the NES, Geoff manages to create a vibrant, three-dimensional soundscape. He uses brilliant echo effects on the arpeggios and cleverly deploys the sound chip’s volume settings to move musical elements towards and away from the listener.

It’s the kind of maximalism you would expect from a Follin score, but the mood is foreboding with frequent breakdowns that bring back the opening’s ominously pounding drums. What’s more disconcerting still is a mid-section for buzzing sounds that crawl like mad ants, moving the music into horror scoring territory.

Things only get bleaker from there, but in spectacular fashion. The Terminator 2: Judgment Day soundtrack’s level themes are astounding compositions. They all clock in at more than six minutes, with a fascinating minimalist bent that feels like the opposite of the usual sonic onslaught heard on a Follin brothers score. Make no mistake though, all the musical elements Geoff uses are as meticulously shaped and fuzzed over as the NES’ limited sound technology could possibly allow for.

“Level 1: Truck Stop” maintains some action scoring conventions, with at times almost upbeat rhythms. But ultimately, Geoff seems entirely disinterested in underscoring the onscreen action, instead creating abstract soundscapes that operate entirely on their own terms. “Level 1: Truck Stop” slowly builds from a gloomy melody riff and masterful variations of a particular arpeggio figure. Then the cue suddenly breaks down at 1:35, shifting into what feels like a whole new track full of metallic clanging and upward-rising arpeggios that end on impossibly high, chromatic intervals – unnerving listeners just before they disappear into the circuitry of a malevolent supercomputer.

Here and on other level themes, Geoff showcases his impressive control of the music’s complex structure and emotional pull – no matter how cerebral the Terminator 2: Judgment Day soundtrack might get, it never ceases to fascinate. On “Level 2 & 4: Drainage Canal / Cyberdyne”, Geoff further cements his innovative use of arpeggios – deployed not so much to generate a full sound, but instead to unsettle through ingenious timbre manipulations. “Level 2 & 4: Drainage Canal / Cyberdyne” relies on nervous arpeggios rushing through their highest registers as if squeezed to death, mixed with whining, high-pitched drones. Geoff contrasts this emotionally raw material with robust rock drums for maximum contrast and in numerous constellations, again mixing action and atmospheric scoring in ways previously unheard on the NES.

“Level 3: Pescadero State” continues in a similar vein, tightening the screws further by cranking up the music’s twisted creepiness – truly fitting for a level set in a mental asylum. It’s “Level 5: Steel Mill / Ending” though that turns out to be the Terminator 2: Judgment Day soundtrack’s masterstroke. Opening with noise channel washes, siren sounds and ominous mechanical pumping, the composition is a masterful sound collage, relying almost entirely on alien timbres – on sound hardware that really wasn’t built for that sort of thing.

Geoff breaks all the rules of action game music here – at one point, the music entirely collapses into twenty seconds of nothing but churning noise. Later, the track gets stuck on a far distant arpeggio motif that has left the earth’s orbit and maniacally circles around itself, lost in the darkness. There’s hardly any melody to speak of here or rhythmic gratification – this is indeed machine music, almost entirely devoid of warmth or elements that feel human. And yet, it’s utterly gripping, a work of baffling brilliance that has few peers on chiptune consoles. “Level 5: Steel Mill / Ending” hammers home the point that the Terminator 2: Judgment Day soundtrack is far more than a simple platformer score. It’s the vision of a desolate future where humanity’s survival hangs on by an ever-thinning thread – until it finally snaps.

01 - Title Screen Follin, Geoff 2:50
02 - Level 1: Truck Stop Follin, Geoff 6:46
03 - Levels 2 & 4: Drainage Canal / Cyberdyne Follin, Geoff 6:29
04 - Level 3: Pescadero State Follin, Geoff 7:28
04 - Level 5: Steel Mill / Ending Follin, Geoff 6:42

Wing Commander Soundtrack (FM Towns)

Wing Commander Soundtrack (FM Towns), David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec, 1992

Very few games foreground their music as much as Wing Commander – and that’s only one way in which it proved to be a watershed moment for game music. Before the player gets to see the game’s intro or even title, game producer Chris Roberts inserts something else, something remarkable: the sight of a pixelated orchestra and conductor, set against the backdrop of a blue planetoid and star-speckled outer space. The orchestra tunes for a few seconds, before the conductor gives the signal to launch into a brief fanfare.

Roberts’ vision for Wing Commander was to create a full-blown space opera à la Star Wars. The orchestra intro in Wing Commander shows that Roberts knew how hugely important music was for his dream project to play like a swashbuckling space opera. The intro also serves as a curtain raiser that heightens expectations. The show is about to start, and it’s going to be of grand proportions. And of course, the sight of the orchestra announces the composers’ symphonic ambitions – a rarity for a 1990 video game. Rarely has a 25-second game intro carried so much meaning and context.

It no surprise then that Roberts asked for the Wing Commander soundtrack to emulate Star Wars, as well as Jerry Goldsmith’s Star Trek: The Motion Picture. While this sounds obvious in retrospect, in 1990 such lofty aims weren’t common for a game score. On gaming platforms available outside of the Japan, the introduction of the Roland MT-32 module had only relatively recently made it possible to convincingly mimic orchestral instruments.

It’s safe to say that in its pursuit of movie-inspired leitmotivic structures, the Wing Commander soundtrack was a ground-breaking effort – possibly the first game score to attempt such tightly-wound thematic integration. The soundtrack’s impact is still felt to this day, as orchestral game music’s aesthetics remain closely linked to film scores.

Of course, all these historic considerations wouldn’t count for much if the Wing Commander soundtrack wasn’t any good musically. Thankfully, George Sanger and David Govett succeed brilliantly at writing as close an approximation of a John Williams-style space opera score as 1990 chip synthesis would allow. Yes, the composers follow a formula, but they fill it with substance and individuality.

It all starts with the musical calling card of the entire Wing Commander franchise. Govett’s “Fanfare” is as heroic and boldly swaggering as one could hope for, perfectly realising the composers’ brief. Govett also finds time for a quiet mid-section with lovely woodwind melodies, before ramping up for the blazing finale. Most importantly for the realisation of its story-telling ambitions, “Fanfare” seamlessly moves through a multitude of moods, melodies and orchestrations to create music with a truly cinematic sweep. That Govett wrote this piece – and the main battle cue – in only two days is astonishing.

And yet there’s more to how the Wing Commander soundtrack fashions itself after the great works of film music. Govett and Sanger’s thematic work here is outstanding, as they find ever new ways to incorporate the fanfare. For a 1990 game score, the composers’ consistently skilful and multi-faceted manipulation of the theme is quite extraordinary. In fact, Wing Commander easily holds up in its thematic complexity and consistency against today’s single-theme game soundtracks.

Of course, it helps that the fanfare is malleable and melodically strong enough to weather its many repetitions gracefully. Whether the theme returns on a lone bugle on “Funeral”, makes a surprisingly wistful appearance as a surf rock live performance (!) on the score album, or faces off against enemy musical forces on the roller coaster “Combat Full / Returning Defeated” – the melody’s omnipresence gives the Wing Commander soundtrack an admirable coherence.

That’s not to say the fanfare is the only provider of melodic ideas on this soundtrack. Far from it – even on tense militaristic underscore like “Commander’s Office” that in lesser hands would invite a half-hearted composing effort, Govett and Sanger’s music has sufficient melodic backbone to emotionally involve listeners. The fact that almost all of Wing Commander’s compositions feature at least one strong melody is crucial. While many pieces run for less than one minute, they still feel worthwhile because of their engaging melodies. What also helps to make this collection of often brief tracks palatable is the clever album sequencing. Tracks are combined into smoothly flowing larger constructs and it’s impressive how this gives even shorter pieces a place within the album arc, ensuring that the game’s cinematic storytelling ambitions register with full force. From Wing Commander onwards, game and film scores would be inextricably intertwined. Now the challenge was for game music to gain inspiration from its older cousin, rather than to just imitate it.

Out of the many Wing Commander ports, the 1992 FM Towns release has arguably the best version of the score, surpassing the PC soundtrack. Prepared by Origin’s Nenad Vugrinec, the FM Towns score is a faithful adaptation of the existing material, only adding some flourishes like snare drums on a few tracks. The synths Vugrinec deploys for Red Book playback are more life-like than those used by the Roland MT-32, although it’s not a quantum leap. What makes the FM Towns version of this score feel significantly bigger and more dramatic is the fact that it places the instruments in far more spacious, vibrant acoustics – exactly what you would want for these cinematic compositions.

Conversion notes

Other ports of the Wing Commander soundtrack don’t fare as well as the FM Towns conversion, even though they stick to the original score’s material (apart from the Sega CD game).

The 1992 SNES port is a massive wasted opportunity. During the time of Wing Commander’s release, the Roland MT-32 was already beginning to show its age. SNES titles like Yuzo Koshiro’s Actraiser, released only three months after Wing Commander, showcased the SPC700 sound chip’s potential for more realistic sample playback. Unfortunately, the SNES conversion makes no use whatsoever of the platform’s reputation as an orchestral powerhouse, merely contend to replicate the sound of the PC synths. And when there are changes in instruments or timbres, they are usually for the worse, sometimes sounding downright obnoxious.

More successful was Wing Commander’s Amiga port. No, it doesn’t replace or build upon the PC soundtrack in any way. However, considering that the Amiga’s audio strengths didn’t lie in replicating orchestral sounds, this conversion does an admirable job at translating the score’s cinematic ambitions – even if the orchestral hits sound fairly piercing.

The 1992 Sega CD port is an intriguing case. It entirely discards Sanger and Govett’s score, coming up with its own material – even its own main theme. The score makes use of Red Book audio only for five tracks, three of which have voice samples layered on top. The remaining two compositions are excellent – densely orchestrated affairs that are more swashbuckling and less militaristic than the original score, but nevertheless expertly crafted and arguably more colourful and complex than Sanger and Govett’s work. Unfortunately, the remaining underscore is not available through game rips, but gameplay videos suggest compositions that are far less elaborate and sophisticated, and the samples don’t sound any more realistic than the 1990 score.

An even stranger case is the 1994 3DO conversion titled Super Wing Commander. The game was a significant graphical upgrade of the original Wing Commander, using a new engine that deployed polygons rather than sprites. The midi orchestrations however are actually a step down from the 1990 game, with some bizarre instrument choices. That glassy, thin synth lead on “Fanfare” sucks just about any sense of excitement and adventure out of the composition. The result is a score that sounds woefully underpowered, and the mediocre new material written for the game doesn’t help things.

01 - Start Tuning David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 0:31
02 - Fanfare David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 5:06
03 - Commander's Office David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 1:56
04 - Briefing Middle David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 1:07
05 - Scramble Through Launch David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 0:30
06 - Goal Line - Defending the Claw David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 1:10
07 - Strike Mission - Go Get 'Em David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 0:58
08 - Flying to Dogfight David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 1:45
09 - Regular Combat David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 2:13
10 - Intense Combat David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 1:11
11 - Returning Normal David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 1:10
12 - Medium Damage Assessment David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 0:54
13 - Debriefing - Successful David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 1:51
14 - Rec Room David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 3:17
15 - Grim or Escort Mission David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 1:07
16 - Eject - Imminent Rescue David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 0:51
17 - Eject - Lost in Space David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 0:58
18 - Medal Ceremony - General David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 0:54
19 - Medal Ceremony - Purple Heart David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 0:55
20 - Funeral David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 1:45
21 - Overall Victory David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 0:54
22 - Barracks: Go to Sleep You Pilots David Govett / George Sanger / Nenad Vugrinec 4:13