1994 Archives - The Greatest Game Music

Battletoads in Battlemaniacs Soundtrack (Sega Master System)

Battletoads in Battlemaniacs Soundtrack (Sega Master System), Matt Furniss / David Wise, 1994

There aren’t a lot of Sega Master System ports of SNES games. There are even fewer ports where the Master System soundtrack improves on the SNES original. And if that score emerges from what was an unfinished release, we might be dealing with a minor miracle. Or maybe such a lucky outcome wasn’t entirely unpredictable. After all, it was Matt Furniss (working with Shaun Hollingworth under the Krisalis moniker) who ported the Battletoads in Battlemaniacs SNES score.

The Master System port of Battletoads in Battlemaniacs has a chequered history. The game – ported by Syrox Developments – was scheduled for a European release in 1994 through Virgin Interactive. The game had progressed far enough that at least two reviews of it were published in UK gaming magazines. However, Virgin Interactive cancelled the release for unknown reasons. At a later stage, the game saw the light of day in Master System-loving Brazil through Tec Toy. However, it’s not clear whether that release took place in 1994 or 1996.

What’s obvious is that what ended up on store shelves was an unfinished product. Filled with glitches, stage tunes playing in the wrong spots or not at all, and a generally underwhelming presentation, Battletoads in Battlemaniacs was hardly a sparkling addition to the Master System’s library of games. What’s intriguing to ponder is whether what was released in Brazil was the same build of the game that was scheduled for release in Europe. The published reviews – while less than enthusiastic – don’t indicate a broken game. That being said, the Mean Machines article does mention “poor sprite detection” and “overall sloppy programming”.

That same review takes a rather dim view of the Battletoads in Battlemaniacs soundtrack. The author claimed that it was a rip off of the Master System’s Lemmings port. That’s an odd claim to make, given that Matt Furnier rather obviously ported David Wise’s Battletoads in Battlemaniacs SNES score. That soundtrack is one of Wise’s lesser works. Its attempt to fuse orchestral and rock elements resulted in overly long and repetitive tracks that felt melodically uninspired and lacked momentum (and the buzzing guitar sound didn’t help matters).

Furniss’ take on Wise’s material is the sort of smart distillation and tweaking that makes a score written for a far superior sound chip work on a more limited platform. There was little hope to translate the guitar focus of the SNES score to the Master System, given its generally bright timbres and lack of duty cycles to manipulate instrumental colours. Furniss navigates around this issue by putting less emphasis on the melody instruments. Instead, he writes fantastically tight, rock-solid rhythms, rendered on must be some of the Master System’s best-sounding rock drum imitations – their sound all the more impressive considering the platform’s infamously bright, light timbres.

Beautifully spacious, yet authoritative and hard-hitting, it’s really the drums that are the star on the Battletoads in Battlemaniacs soundtrack. They drive each piece forward with relentless energy. What’s more, their lo-fi, near-industrial nature (compared to the SNES samples) gives them a grit and energy that was missing on the original score. At the same time, Furniss is aware that a great drum beat will only carry a piece for so long. What he ensures then is that none (well, almost none) of his tracks here outstay their welcome. As a result, his cues are more succinct than Wise’s compositions, staying closer to action game music conventions.

All this is not to say that the melodies Furniss either adapts or writes himself are lacking. Not surprising given his background in the European computer music scene, most melodies on the Battletoads in Battlemaniacs soundtrack come in the shape of cleverly layered arpeggios. Both on “Title” and “Ragnarok Canyon”, these bubbly arpeggios trade places regularly with bass melodies, helping the music’s variety and sense of forward direction. Ultimately though, while Furniss’ melodies get the job done, their purpose really is to support the rhythms and their never-ceasing propulsive drive.

“Snake Pit” is the culmination of this approach. Turning the SNES’ soft, percolating percussion into fierce ostinato, Furniss’ Battletoads in Battlemaniacs soundtrack uses its breathless pace and anthemic melodies to deliver the soundtrack’s most adrenaline-driven, rock-like track. A nice touch is Furniss’ pronounced use of vibrato on the sustained, decaying notes that close several of his melodies. It’s as close an approximation of guitar tones as one could hope for on the Master System.

The only track that is less than enticing is “Last Battle”. It stays too close to the original’s uninspired melodic material and call and response pattern. What’s worse, for some reason the percussion now feels strangely muted and is somewhat buried in the mix. That leaves about 10 minutes of material that still ranks as some of the Master System’s best action music. Now if only the game was actually complete and featured music for every single level…

01 - Title Matt Furniss / David Wise 2:28
02 - Ragnarok Canyon (Stage 1 & 8) Matt Furniss / David Wise 2:10
03 - Hollow Tree (Stage 2 & 10) Matt Furniss / David Wise 1:43
04 - Snake Pit (Stage 6) Matt Furniss / David Wise 1:32

Battletoads Soundtrack (Arcade)

Battletoads Soundtrack (Arcade), David Wise, 1994

The final entry in the Battletoads franchise also happens to be one of its less well-known ones. Electronic Arts made a rare attempt at releasing an arcade game, publishing Battletoads as a coin-op, three-player beat’em up. It’s hard to say how successful or not the game was, but no console ports ever saw the light of day. And so, three years after the release of the original NES Battletoads game, the franchise was laid to rest – at least until E3 2018.

The fact that the arcade Battletoads didn’t seem to have made any waves is a bit of a shame. According to both reviewers of the arcade title and the 2015 Rare Replay re-release, this Battletoads game might well have been the strongest entry in the franchise. In a departure from previous Battletoads titles, this game skipped any genre-hopping (no more platforming and speed biking) and only focused on the brawling elements. This made for a less adventurous, but more focused game. Battletoads was also enhanced by great graphics that ramped up the cartoonish violence that had always been part of the franchise – but usually in fairly tame fashion. This time however, Rare was clearly happy to work outside of the limits set by Nintendo’s content policy. The result played like a test run for Conker’s Bad Fur Day, with plenty of blood, swearing and crude jokes.

Of course, David Wise’s soundtrack follows this over-the-top aesthetic. The result is music that’s almost the polar opposite of the NES original’s soundtrack. That earlier score effectively undermined action scoring stereotypes, full of jittery tension and frayed nerves. On the other hand, this Battletoads soundtrack is the most testosterone-driven score of the entire franchise. It makes for few stylistic surprises, but fittingly underscores the game’s cartoonish, exuberant mood.

First track “Vulture – Robotic Rabble – Bonus Round” wastes no time in setting the course that this Battletoads soundtrack will take. With its speed metal-inspired staccato riffing, “Vulture – Robotic Rabble – Bonus Round” is easily the heaviest Battletoads track so far. It takes the hard rock sound of the SNES Battletoads & Double Dragon soundtrack and cranks up the intensity to take this score into metal territory. The guitar tone is hollower than on the SNES game, but “Vulture – Robotic Rabble – Bonus Round” is sufficiently varied and filled with enough indomitable energy that its fairly muddy sound matters little. And between the sledgehammer riffing, Wise still weaves in a handful of rousing guitar leads.

“Big Blag’s Stronghold – Scores” is closer to the SNES Battletoads & Double Dragon’s melodic mid-tempo riffing. And indeed, Wise finds a memorable riff that he rides for all that it’s worth, right from the track’s beginning. Once the track’s rock-solid groove is firmly established, Wise finds the perfect moment to layer in anthemic synth fanfares. The synths bring flawlessly timed cinematic drama and raised-fists-to-the-sky defiance through their proud, catchy melody. “Boss 1” is a more straightforward metal track, setting a galloping rhythm section against howling guitar riffs. The drums’ constant push is merciless, but thankfully never turns monotonous (a sin “Boss 2” is unfortunately guilty of).

Like Battletoads & Double Dragon, this Battletoads soundtrack is built on heavy rock guitars, with some genre mixes and experiments thrown in for good measure. Their number is slightly larger than on Battletoads & Double Dragon, giving Battletoads are more colourful feel. “Arctic Caverns” is a less surprising affair than its NES counterpart of the same name, but the cue is still a playful and effective evocation of its location. Wise has great fun pitting hammering ten-ton riffs against chiming Christmas bells and the expected bouncy rhythms. Despite the jaunty synth melodies though, “Arctic Caverns” never turns into overt parody and remembers to simply keep rocking.

Other tracks that venture outside of the standard hard rock/metal template reprise parts of the Battletoads franchise’s musical heritage. “The Dark Queen’s Battleship” feels like a more focused take on the synth pop/rock/new jack swing melange that was Battletoads & Double Dragon’s “Roper”, with an insidiously catchy beat that despite little variation is strong enough to carry the entire track. “Hole” recalls the carefully paced mid-tempo orchestra/rock mix that the SNES Battletoads in Battlemaniacs soundtrack.

However, “Hole” pulls off this approach much more successfully. The composition – despite its length – never meanders, with a clear sense of progression and constant rhythms. The latter help the music to develop an impressive sweep in steady, calm fashion as the claustrophobic atmosphere builds and builds and heavy melodies push the music forward, but only under great duress. It’s arguably a repetitive track, but for good reason, as the cue keeps hammering home its defiant melodies against increasing odds.

To close the musical history of the Battletoads franchise – at least for now – Wise caps things off in a more celebratory mood than on previous Battletoads games. “Ending – Credits” opens with a beautifully layered brass fanfare, highlighting Wise’s impressive orchestral writing skills that would power several of Donkey Kong Country 2’s highlights. More intriguing still is the cue’s B section, an expansive violin melody with good amounts of light woodwind counterpoint. It’s a style of music that hasn’t been heard on any previous Battletoads score. It’s fun to see that while in some ways this Battletoads soundtrack plays more by the rules than previous franchise scores, it keeps an appetite for musical surprises – maintaining a proud tradition that started with the 1991 NES original.

01 - Vulture (Stage 1) ~ Robotic Rabble (Stage 6) ~ Bonus Round David Wise 2:16
02 - Arctic Caverns (Stage 2) David Wise 2:55
03 - The Dark Queen's Battleship (Stage 3) David Wise 2:50
04 - Hole (Stage 4) David Wise 4:05
05 - Big Blag's Stronghold (Stage 5) ~ Scores David Wise 3:55
06 - Boss 1 David Wise 2:09
07 - Korpse Kount David Wise 1:36
08 - Ending ~ Credits David Wise 1:12

Donkey Kong Country Soundtrack (SNES)

Donkey Kong Country Soundtrack (SNES), Robin Beanland / Eveline Fischer / David Wise, 1994

It’s probably safe to say that Donkey Kong Country was always destined to be a blockbuster. What set the game on course for domination of the 1994 Christmas season were its ground-breaking graphics. More than nine million sold copies later, Donkey Kong Country had become a milestone in gaming history.

While it was the game’s quasi-3D graphics that made waves back in 1994, what has arguably aged better is the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack. For the first time in Rare’s history, David Wise was joined by co-composers: Eveline Fischer (now Novakovic) and Robin Beanland. The latter’s contribution only extended to one track (“Funky’s Fugue”) that Wise converted to run on the SNES. Fischer – recently graduated from college – on the other hand contributed seven compositions. The soundtrack was one of the very first Western game scores to receive a commercial release – on both sides of the Pacific.

Considering the lavish, intricate nature of the game’s graphics, as well as its (initial) jungle setting, where would Wise and Fischer take the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack? Occasionally, they play to genre expectations. Mostly though, Donkey Kong Country plays almost like an antithesis to the typically bouncy sound of 16-bit platformers.

Where the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack sticks closest to conventions is in its use of vivacious swing jazz to underscore its jungle environment. The most memorable and best developed incarnation of this influence is “DK Island Swing”, presenting what has become the unofficial Donkey Kong Country theme, reprised on future franchise titles. It’s interesting to note that this lively melody – although now so closely associated with the franchise – really only makes one brief appearance on the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack. The same goes for the soundtrack’s jazz component as a whole. While fondly remembered by many gamers, it only makes up a relatively small part of the score.

While Wise and Fischer integrate jazz (and some rock’n’roll) influences seamlessly, the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack shines brightest elsewhere. More often than not, Wise and Fischer react to the game’s immensely detailed, colourful graphics with ascetic music that suggests a very different aesthetic. Be it to avoid sensory overload or not, most of the time the music subtly establishes a particular mood, rather than underscoring the on-screen action. For a 16-bit platformer score, Donkey Kong Country is at times exceedingly minimalist. Wise and Fischer’s work suggests a world rather than spelling it out, leaving gaps for the listener to fill in.

The effects of this restrained approach are stunning, thanks to Wise and Fischer’s compositional care. Listen to “Cave Dweller Concert”, running at nearly six minutes when looped. Sounds of dropping water mix with wooden xylophone strikes and other percussion, echoing in the depths to hint at a vast, dimly lit space. This is music that tantalisingly suggests, rather than reveals. The utterly spell-binding “Misty Menace” pairs back its instrumentation even further. Initially, it’s little more than white noise and echoing metal strikes, before a single swelling string chord and more metallic percussion fragments join in. At this stage, the world of Donkey Kong Country turns elusive and borderline sublime, appropriately captured only with the most understated of gestures.

None of this means though that the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack is a heady, cold affair. True, it’s not as outwardly melodic as its successor. However, the score still manages to be richly emotional, without having to rely on overt emoting. “Aquatic Ambience” is a perfect example of Wise’s slowly morphing soundscapes, evoking 80s synth film scores rather than SNES music. Softly oscillating synth layers gently waver through the ether, creating an otherworldly mood quite unlike anything else on the SNES. Finally, after 85 seconds have passed, a dreamy, yet wistful melody that is impossible to forget appears. Quietly moving, “Aquatic Ambience” works its magic with stunning effortlessness.

That the music can work its spell so potently is the result of painstaking technical work by Wise. To work around the SNES’ sample size limitation of 64kb, Wise worked with single-cycle, custom created wave samples. His efforts pay off in spades. Many of the synth-driven tracks on the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack suggest a 32- rather than a 16-bit platform.

While Wise receives most kudos for the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack’s success, Fischer’s contributions are just as strong. In fact, considering that this was Fischer’s first game score, the quality of her work here is stunning. Take “Ice Cave Chant”, which adds a welcome dose of catchy, shimmering pop melodicism to what is otherwise a fairly hushed score. Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Kong Quest would proceed further down that avenue, putting greater focus on melodies. However, the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack remains a singularly engrossing experiment as far as SNES music goes, appearing in the unlikely disguise of a blockbuster game score.

Conversion notes

As you would expect, porting a soundtrack that relies so heavily on soundscaping to other platforms is no easy task – at least if those platforms are technologically less advanced than the SNES.

Predictably, Donkey Kong Country’s Game Boy port excises a fair amount of material from the SNES score and shortens several other compositions that it does include. What’s left is at times a valiant attempt to approximate the subtlety of the SNES compositions, on a platform that really wasn’t built for this kind of texturally-focused, mood-driven music. At other times, the compositions end up significantly rearranged, with far heavier, stomping rhythms and bungled attempts to introduce new contrapuntal melodies.

Released nearly ten years after the SNES original, the game’s Game Boy Advance port faithfully renders the soundtrack on significantly less powerful sound hardware – like so many GBA ports of SNES games, just stick with the original.

01 - Theme (Title) David Wise 2:00
02 - Simian Segue (Map) Eveline Fischer 2:32
03 - DK Island Swing (Jungle Stages) David Wise 5:15
04 - Cranky's Theme (Cranky's Cabin) David Wise 1:54
05 - Cave Dweller Concert (Cave Stages) David Wise 5:56
06 - Bonus Room Blitz (Bonus Area) David Wise 1:04
07 - Aquatic Ambiance (Underwater Stages) David Wise 3:24
08 - Candy's Love Song (Candy's Save Point) Eveline Fischer 2:14
09 - Mine Cart Madness (Mine Cart Stages) David Wise 3:11
10 - Life in the Mines (Mine Stages) David Wise 4:29
11 - Voices in the Temple (Temple Stages) Eveline Fischer 3:03
12 - Forest Frenzy (Forest Stages) Eveline Fischer 2:06
13 - Treetop Rock (Treetop Village Stages) Eveline Fischer 2:57
14 - Misty Menace (Dark Cave Stages) David Wise 4:23
15 - Northern Hemispheres (Snowfield Stages) Eveline Fischer 4:06
16 - Ice Cave Chant (Ice Cave Stages) Eveline Fischer 3:24
17 - Fear Factory (Factory Stages) David Wise 3:56

Hero Quest II: Legacy of Sorasil Soundtrack (Amiga CD32)

Hero Quest II: Legacy of Sorasil Soundtrack (Amiga CD32), Patrick Phelan, 1994

While it was based on a popular fantasy board game license, Hero Quest didn’t exactly set the video game world on fire upon release in 1991. Ultimately, it didn’t leave much more than a reasonably positive impression with reviewers and gamers. Still, developer Gremlin Interactive must have felt that there was enough life left in the license to squeeze out another Hero Quest game. Hero Quest II: Legacy of Sorasil was released in 1994, reusing its predecessor’s engine and isometric view. The game didn’t deliver much in terms of new ideas or innovations and consequently reaped the same muted response as the first Hero Quest. The fact that Legacy of Sorasil hit store shelves towards the end of the Amiga’s lifespan didn’t help – and its showing on the Amiga CD32 was doomed by the console’s quick demise.

Hero Quest’s biggest achievement might have been its music. Neil Baldwin (on the NES) and Barry Leitch (ZX Spectrum) delivered a couple of classic fantasy scores that both made full use of the limited sound capacities of their respective platforms. For the Hero Quest II: Legacy of Sorasil soundtrack, scoring duties went to Patrick Phelan. Phelan had only entered the game industry in 1992, but quickly established himself as one of Gremlin Interactive’s go-to composers, working on its Zool, Lotus and Top Gear games. Interestingly enough, on the Lotus and Top Gear series, Phelan took over from Leitch, who had scored earlier franchise iterations – and this trend would continue with Legacy of Sorasil.

As a game, Legacy of Sorasil raised few eyebrows – and so the quality of its Amiga CD32-exclusive CDDA soundtrack is all the more surprising. Phelan wastes no time establishing his credentials on curtain raiser “Menu”. The cue starts off as a march with a lithe flute melody leading the way, before things quickly escalate. A resolute deep string line and bell strikes widen the composition’s scope, the flute melody is passed to the brass, turning proud and rousing… and then the track explodes into a fortissimo with an even more forceful brass melody, gaining its towering effect from the contrast between the melody’s stately progression and the maniacally swirling vortex of chromatic strings scales backing it.

It’s a convincingly monumental passage that quickly underlines the soundtrack’s ability to impress. For the remainder of the piece, Phelan alternates between reprises of this grimly triumphant musical climax and quieter episodes that are just as skillfully orchestrated, combining a multitude of ideas into one coherent composition. And pay attention to those racing strings underneath the brass declarations – their chromatic, unexpected progressions ensure that these awe-inspiring fortissimi don’t just sound grand, but also menacing and edgy.

Indeed, the fantasy world that Phelan creates on the Hero Quest II: Legacy of Sorasil soundtrack is both imposing and untrustworthy, filled with dangers. Like on Leitch’s Hero Quest score, listeners won’t find much of the romanticism and adventurous spirit often associated with fantasy soundtracks. Leitch’s approach created a wistful, dreamy realm, whereas Phelan heads in the opposite direction. His compositions focus on the bass end of the orchestra, evoking an earthy medievalism that’s certainly not foreign to the fantasy genre – but the way Phelan uses it to broaden the scale of the game’s environments is unusual.

Take “In-Game 01”, clocking in at no less than 11 minutes. Its opening mood is moribund and forlorn, thanks to its bassoon lead (soon replaced by harmonising solo woodwind) and plodding percussion. The melody keeps repeating without ever grating, creating a ritualistic pull as if underscoring an ancient ceremony in an age-old, barren land. Dramatic, sudden brass fanfares interject at 3:20, as if the game’s world suddenly bares its fangs, followed by deep string pizzicati that sound like hammers. Then the desolate atmosphere lightens as Phelan introduces an episode for impish woodwinds and cheeky rhythms, before circling through more changes of mood, including trumpet soli whose chromatic progressions subtly undermine their traditional fantasy heroism. Another highlight is an oboe lead around the eight-minute mark which sounds like the transcription of an organ melody, perfectly complementing the composition’s somber ceremonial undercurrent.

Throughout the entire piece, Phelan develops his material like a seasoned professional, while making expert use of his carefully selected range of orchestral colours. Most importantly, his focus on melodic and rhythmic repetition – evoking that earthy medievalism mentioned before – is consistent with the foundations he built on “Menu”. Whether it is that earlier cue’s grandiosity or “In-Game 01”’s constantly recurring material, the resulting sound has a monolithic quality, turning the world of Legacy of Sorasil into a vast, harsh terrain that’s still exciting and vibrant enough to invite exploration.

Such skillful orchestral writing might seem like a surprise coming from a composer who up to this point was best known for his synth-heavy racing scores. However, there’s Litil Divil, a little-known Amiga title released in 1993 and scored by Phelan and frequent collaborator Neil Biggin. Litil Divil’s orchestral score had no doubt shown potential, despite ultimately feeling like a collection of competently written gestures rather than full-blown, coherent compositions. The Hero Quest II: Legacy of Sorasil soundtrack then shows Phelan making true on the promise shown on that earlier game, to astounding effect.

The remainder of Legacy of Sorasil by and large maintains the same high standard of quality. “In-Game 02” (13 minutes long!) wades through five minutes of low-key mumblings – but then things turn more interesting. Phelan reaches back to the march rhythms heard on “Menu” and merges them with the expansive development of “In-Game 01”. It makes for a less consistent piece than “In-Game 01”, but “In-Game 02”’s combination of belligerent determination and constant melodic appeal makes for another orchestral epic that smartly rises and falls to achieve maximum effect. Its drastic dynamic contrasts again underscore a fantasy world of unpredictable menace and immense scale. It’s a domain full of roughly-hewn cathedrals and soldiers ploughing on through mud towards the battlefield, waiting in eerie silence before the ferocious clash of arms.

“In-Game 03” provides a welcome breather after the intensity of what’s come before, condensing Phelan’s ability to effortlessly develop his compositions and their melodic content into a charming three-minute cue. What starts out as the sort of piece many fantasy games use for locations like a tavern – think light dance rhythms and instantly tuneful woodwind melodies – soon turns into something more elaborate. Phelan brings in a harpsichord, which takes turns with a solo flute as the track’s lead instrument. The result is an intriguing combination of medieval and baroque influences that feels entirely organic and seamless, while providing an abundance of melodic riches. It’s the fitting summary of one of Western game music’s strongest orchestral game soundtracks up to that point.

Conversion notes

Phelan also wrote the music for the Amiga version of Hero Quest II: Legacy of Sorasil. Interestingly enough, while it uses different musical material, it’s strikingly similar in its orchestrations and mood to the Amiga CD32 score. A fine score in and of itself, the Amiga soundtrack is somewhat held back by the limitations of its platform, so it ultimately feels a bit like the draft of a work that was more fully realised on the Amiga CD32. That being said, it is still worth seeking out.

01 - Menu Patrick Phelan 3:46
02 - In-Game 01 Patrick Phelan 11:15
03 - In-Game 02 Patrick Phelan 8:29
04 - In-Game 03 Patrick Phelan 3:19

Little Big Adventure Soundtrack

Little Big Adventure Soundtrack, Philippe Vachey, 1994

Little Big Adventure is probably one of the most fondly-remembered PC games of the 1990s. A resounding commercial success, Little Big Adventure maintains a steadfastly loyal fan base decades after its release. That has a lot to do with the sheer amount of charm and personality that developer Adeline Software managed to fill Little Big Adventure with. Other innovations like the game’s open-ended world and novel 3d perspective helped turn this action adventure into a genre classic.

Just as fondly remembered as the game is the Little Big Adventure soundtrack, and for good reason. In short, after Wing Commander and Ultima: Worlds of Adventure 2 – Martian Dreams, Little Big Adventure was the next big step forward for Western orchestral game music. It came from a somewhat unexpected source. Self-taught composer Philippe Vachey had only worked on a few French computer game scores before Little Big Adventure. His most notable score was Alone in the Dark, even if the music was less effective outside of the game.

However, on the Little Big Adventure soundtrack, Vashey quickly establishes proof of his masterful handling of orchestral forces. “Opening for Lba” convinces right from the start with its beautifully layered and colourful orchestrations, flawless development, and enchanting melodies and countermelodies. While “Opening for Lba” establishes the sunny, upbeat mood that characterises most of the score, the composition doesn’t lack drama. Starting with a lyrical, yet majestic melody for oboe with brass backing, “Opening for Lba” seamlessly develops and moves through a multitude of textures and moods with the confidence and breadth of a grand fantasy score composition. And thus, the Little Big Adventure soundtrack establishes its dual nature. It’s a light-hearted, charming fantasy score that still builds a world and quest of immense

Vachey described in interviews how much the vibrant world of Little Big Adventure inspired him. Indeed, his joy of scoring such a vivid universe is felt in every piece. It helps that due to technological advancements, Vachey is in a position to use Red Book audio and thus live performers. The instrument sounds’ greater authenticity over previous Western orchestral scores is a crucial aspect of Little Big Adventure’s immense appeal.

Things continue in equally delightful fashion with “The Quest” and “The Rebels”. The former starts with an immediately memorable, shamelessly optimistic trumpet ostinato. An energising double bass figure and rising brass chords all contribute to a wonderful build up. It’s as if the composition is trembling with the giddy anticipation of finally embarking on an adventure, unable to wait until the quest finally begins – and when a cathartic orchestral flourish finally bursts out with youthful abandon, it raises the curtain on a gorgeous, sun-lit scenery. Remarkably enough, Vachey’s carefully crafted melodies and orchestrations – particularly a passage for flute, harp and pizzicato strings in “The Quest”’s second half – foreshadow Hitoshi Sakimoto’s trademark heroic fantasy stylings heard a few years later.

Clocking in at only 25 minutes, there’s not necessarily much of an album arc to the Little Big Adventure soundtrack. After its relatively uniform opening, Little Big Adventure takes off into a series of vignettes, all realised with utmost skill. Almost each composition is a score highlight, spearheaded by “Desert”, a greatly original take on the standard desert theme. Vachey takes the sounds of a harp and electronically manipulates its notes to thicken them, allowing them to fill the soundscape while retaining the solo instrument’s sparseness – all to evoke a vast, empty space. Initially “Desert” soothes with its gentle New Age-tinge. But after 1:35, its melodies develop into something more chromatic and ambiguous. Seamlessly, the previously calmly welcoming mood turns intriguingly uncertain.

“The Temple” isn’t quite as original, but atmospherically just as potent. As expected, its textures and melodies are powerfully solemn and static to denote caution and awe. However, conflict brews and ultimately erupts when a struggle between the solo flute and the orchestral backdrop – backed by busy piano lines – breaks out.

Finally, “Hamalayi” matches the opening trio’s orchestral splendour and serves as another example of Vachey’s orchestral mastery. Not surprisingly, “Hamalayi” relies heavily on arpeggios and ostinati to evoke its wintry location. But Vachey clads these musical building blocks in different orchestral colours to create two very distinct moods: calm wonder and restless agitation, as the constant musical motion becomes a menacing grind.

In interviews, Vachey elaborated on his diverse musical background and how he was influenced by pop and classical composers. On most of the Little Big Adventure soundtrack, it’s clearly the orchestral elements that dominate. However, closing track “Lba’s Theme (1994 Version)” mixes the worlds of orchestral and pop music to absolute perfection. Its central melody is a fantastic creation for woodwinds, cheery but tinged with just a bit of wistfulness at the fact that the adventure is over. Vachey interweaves melodies and builds the track towards an immensely fulfilling finish with the hand of an expert orchestral composer. At the same time, “Lba’s Theme (1994 Version)” is as addictive and immediate as any great pop song, easily exceeding Vachey’s already promising work on the FM Towns version of Advantage Tennis. There couldn’t be a more memorable finish to a score that raised the bar so considerably.

01 - Opening for Lba Philippe Vachey 3:10
02 - The Quest Philippe Vachey 2:57
03 - The Rebels Philippe Vachey 2:29
04 - Desert Philippe Vachey 2:46
05 - In the Temple Philippe Vachey 2:45
06 - Village Philippe Vachey 1:36
07 - Hamalayi Philippe Vachey 3:39
08 - Lba's Theme (1994 Version) Philippe Vachey 3:50

Monster Max Soundtrack

Monster Max Soundtrack, David Wise, 1994

Sometimes the universe (or at least video game publishers) work in mysterious ways. On paper, Monster Max should have been a success – not a million-seller (few isometric action adventures on the Game Boy were), but still a game that would deliver respectable sales figures. Its pedigree was impeccable – a collaboration between Rare and the duo of Jon Ritman and Bernie Drummond. Both parties had created genre classics in the 1980s – Rare with Knight Lore, Alien 8 and Nightshade, while Ritman and Drummond (inspired by Knight Lore) were the men behind Batman and Head Over Heels. Ritman had just finished work on a development system that Rare used for many of their games and he decided to start work on a Game Boy title.

Upon “release” in late 1994, Monster Max then went on to garner outstanding reviews from critics, setting itself up for success as the Christmas season was approaching (Rare’s other contender for that period was of course Donkey Kong Country). However, there’s a reason for the quotation marks around ‘release’. While publisher Titus officially released the game in 1994, it only produced copies that would hit store shelves a full ten months later, effectively burying the game it was distributing for no discernible reason. By mid-1995, everybody’s attention had of course moved on to the new 32-bit platforms and Monster Max was largely forgotten – although its quality ensured it retained a dedicated, if small following.

Just as Rare was about to expand its sound team beyond the talents of David Wise, he delivered his final chiptunes classic with the Monster Max soundtrack. The creative process seems to have been fairly straightforward. Asked how Ritman collaborated with Wise, Ritman responded that “it was more or less a case of me phoning him and asking for music/sound effects and him sending it too me.” As with Snake Rattle ‘n’ Roll, the musical direction for the game had been set before a note of music was written. After all, this was a game about rock ‘n’ roll guitarist Max, who had to complete his training as a hero to topple the evil King Krond, who has banned all music on Monster Planet.

In other words, chiptunes rock awaits – and this time it’s the heavy kind, as opposed to the more swinging rock of Snake Rattle ‘n’ Roll. The Game Boy’s crunchy sound lends itself well to this sort of stomping, riff-driven rock. What’s still surprising though is how much heaviness Wise manages to induce into the Monster Max soundtrack, as he teases a fantastic amount of powerful rhythms out of the Game Boy’s sound chip. Throughout the score, he gets to indulge in the earthier rock tones of the NES Battletoads’ “Title Screen / Opening”, which that soundtrack largely dropped afterwards (and the Arcade Battletoads went for metal rather than hard rock).

Given the stylistic connections to other classics in his discography, it’s obvious that Wise knows how to successfully pull off this sort of music. “Track 1” draws in listeners with its up-tempo rhythms and crashing chords. The electrifying cue also introduces Wise’s penchant for determined, anthemic melody leads that have an propulsive sing-along quality to them – what better music for an aspiring rock hero? And as one would hope, Wise’s tracks play like rock instrumentals that seamlessly flow from one section to the next.

The Game Boy’s sound limitations pose some challenges when working with as specific a sound palette as Wise does here. However, his talents allow him to write a wealth of material that’s sufficiently varied (not to mention vigorous) to overcome this potential hindrance. “Track 2” is at least initially more groove-based and lighter, as it eases gamers into a title whose difficulty can be immensely challenging (it’s a Rare game, after all). “Track 3” is more focused, all plodding rhythms, stripped-back melodies and memorable riffs that exude raw energy.

Wise’s expert use of the noise channel is another strong point of the Monster Max soundtrack, creating convincing ad lib drum fills and licks that give the music an energising spontaneity. And on “Track 4”, Wise contrasts an insisting bass pulse with a high-pitched melody line that floats above the chugging rhythms and their marching stride. The cue’s contrasting timbres successfully put the spotlight on just how memorable (and just a bit pop-inspired) Wise’s memorable, proud melody lead is.

Thundering hard rock often enough has a grim gravitas. As a result, the Monster Max soundtrack never sells the conflict between Max and King Krong as anything less than an epic (if grooving) battle. “Track 5” brings these more ominous ambiences to the fore with swelling bass notes and a sinister chromatic melody, wrapped in cleverly implemented echo effects that give the music foreboding scale. Once again, Wise uses this sombre start as an opportunity to play with tonal contrasts – the melody that now enters is the soundtrack’s most grandstanding, almost triumphant moment. Focused squarely on the bass register, “Track 6” ups the ante further with the soundtrack’s most driving rhythms and heaviest riffing. The cue successfully creates a massive sound that is relentless and yet melodic, bringing the atmosphere built up throughout the soundtrack to a head.

If anything, “Track 7” is even more intense, adding urgent arpeggios and almost industrial rhythms. This mix turns denser still with melodies that are now intricately layered, maintaining the soundtrack’s strident yet catchy nature. After all that, “Track 8” feels like little more than an uplifting, head-bopping ditty – but it’s a welcome bit of sunshine after what has been an intense but rewarding trek through the halls of the Mega Hero Academy and its myriad challenges.

01 - Track 1 Wise, David 1:38
02 - Track 2 Wise, David 2:37
03 - Track 3 Wise, David 3:27
04 - Track 4 Wise, David 2:11
05 - Track 5 Wise, David 2:35
06 - Track 6 Wise, David 1:46
07 - Track 7 Wise, David 2:30
08 - Track 8 Wise, David 0:46

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

Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki Soundtrack (PC-98), Yoko Kanno, 1994

Tenshouki, the sixth instalment of KOEI’s long-running Nobunaga’s Ambition franchise, heralded the end of an era in several ways (despite its strategy gameplay that focused on medieval Japanese warlords not changing much). It was the last Nobunaga’s Ambition game to be released on the PC-98 series of Japanese personal computers and the last franchise title to see the light of day on 16-bit platforms. Most importantly for our purpose, it was the final Nobunaga’s Ambition game to be scored by franchise mainstay Yoko Kanno.

Kanno’s star had been steadily rising throughout the early 1990s and by 1994, she was ready to focus on anime and film scoring – an area she had dabbled in as an arranger in recent years, with her breakthroughs Macross Plus and The Vision of Escaflowne just around the corner. For her farewell to the Nobunaga’s Ambition franchise, KOEI once more increased the budget allocation – and considerably so.

Nobunaga’s Ambition: Haouden had been recorded with a small domestic orchestra and on a local sound stage (to mixed results). Tenshouki, on the other hand, had the benefit of being performed by the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra. A Japanese video game being recorded by a Polish orchestra might seem surprising, but the same ensemble had done a stellar job on Masamichi Amano’s Giant Robo score in 1992. Tenshouki was the beginning of a fruitful collaboration between Kanno and the orchestra, including works like The Vision of Escaflowne, Brain Powerd and Genesis of Aquarion.

If you want to get a feel for the difference in performance and recording quality between Haouden and the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki soundtrack, sample “Supreme Ruler Suite -Warsaw Edition–”. The piece is a compilation of Haouden’s “Supreme Ruler Introduction” and “Destructive Army” – and while it’s not a day-and-night difference, the clearer recording makes “Supreme Ruler Introduction”’s intricate layers that much more discernible.

With one of the world’s best scoring orchestras at her disposal, it’s no surprise that Kanno skews more classical on the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki soundtrack than on Nobunaga’s Ambition: Bushou Fuuunroku and Haouden. Japanese solo instruments are used very sparingly – instead, Kanno evokes culturally-specific timbres through the clever use of orchestral colours and pentatonic melodies. Also gone are Haouden’s jazzy tendencies – this is classically-inspired music through and through, drawing both upon symphonic and chamber music.

At the same time, Tenshouki’s general character does have the capacity to surprise. One might expect Kanno to go big and bold, now that she finally has access to a large, first-rate symphony orchestra. But instead, Kanno seems to pull back, crafting a far mellower work than the sometimes tumultuous Bushou Fuuunroku. In fact, there’s not a single composition on the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki soundtrack that one would call an action or battle cue. It’s worth noting that Kanno decided to not use a single one of the ‘War’ tracks from the PC-98 chiptunes original for the PC-98 Soundware version – so Tenshouki’s generally genial mood very much feels like a conscious decision.

Maybe Tenshouki’s lack of sturm and drang is a sign of Kanno’s increased confidence as a composer. She seems happy to identify precisely which ingredients a piece requires to work its spell – and leave it at that. Her restraint and impressive economy of means are particularly evident during the album’s mid-section. “The Cloudy Road” is a peaceful, sunny piano composition with a relatively simple, but lovely progression that’s a world away from Bushou Fuuunroku’s rampaging piano showpiece “The Helpful God of War’s Banner Last Chapter”. “Wind Orchid” follows in a similar vein. An elegant air for piano and strings, “Wind Orchid” is an exquisite miniature that belies its short running time and seemingly uncomplicated surface. Dig deeper and you find a composition that repeatedly changes momentum, tempo and rhythm, without ever sacrificing its lightly dancing motion.

Closing vocal ballad “Distant Blue” is similarly sparsely orchestrated, relying on acoustic guitar, piano and subtle synth pads to back Akino Arai’s intimate, moving delivery. With an almost meditative lilt, “Distant Blue” lacks the hushed grandeur of Haouden’s vocal piece but feels warmer and more soothing. What’s remarkable is how Kanno manages to extend the track’s run time to nearly seven minutes, without ever stretching its material – the composition just naturally flows from one beautiful melody to the next.

More fully orchestrated tracks reprise the same general atmosphere, usually to gorgeous results. A particular standout is “Crescent Moon on the Lake”. It pairs a pentatonic, plaintive cello melody with iridescent, beguiling violin chords that evoke the cue’s location to perfection. There’s not much counterpoint or busy musical activity here – Kanno can simply rely on her ability to create the most bewitching harmonies, as the violins’ impressionistic chords glisten in the pale, white moon light. “Distant Fields” is less heady but features one of Kanno’s best melodies up to this point – a delectable, swooning string tune that carries listeners into a dreamy haze. The addition of castanets in the track’s second half is a creative way to add some colour and energy to the music’s gentility.

Indeed, “Distant Fields” seems to crystallise the feeling of nostalgia that runs through much of the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki soundtrack – and it’s hard not to read this sentiment as a result of Kanno saying goodbye to the franchise that started her career. That being said, Tenshouki does have its moments of outright, if often brief drama. It’s on these compositions that Kanno’s increased maturity writing for full orchestra becomes entirely obvious. Opening track “The Hawk of Turbulent Times” sets the scene to wonderfully startling effect as brass chords build, only to rapidly descent in a frenzied chromatic motion and disappear. This game of bait and switch continues, as the piece moves back and forth between elegant 5/4 rhythms, brutal outbursts of brassy ferocity and a strained flute melody over quivering strings that creates breathless tension.

Previously, Kanno’s orchestral compositions were most definitely rich, subtle creations, but usually fairly obvious in the emotions they sought to elicit. On Tenshouki, Kanno crafts pieces that combine conflicting moods and create more complicated tonal juxtapositions. “Summer Squall” opens in similarly fragmented, edge-of-your-seat fashion as “The Hawk of Turbulent Times”. Finally, the piece settles on a bouncy march whose almost overly jolly mood is undermined by the expert use of acidic, dissonant undertones from the brass and strings – maybe consciously recalling Dimitri Shostakovich’s use of musical irony. “Spring Waves” sees Kanno continuing her exploration of more complex emotional territory, the cue’s mock-pompous brass backing a violin lead that is both imposing and cantankerous – like a mighty warlord throwing a temper tantrum, while the music subtly pokes fun at his presumptuousness.

Kanno closes the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki soundtrack on a pitch-perfect note with “Yonder Dreams”, adding tons of romantic sweep and elegant grandeur to the album’s mostly peaceful template. Proceeding with utmost assurance, “Yonder Dreams” is fantastically melodic from the start and only keeps getting more and more beautiful and moving. Part of Kanno’s flawless melody writing is the way she throws in sufficient harmonic surprises to sustain the cue’s extended run time – listen how increasingly passionate phrases end in unexpected chromatic harmonies at 0:45 and 3:13, complicating the music’s emotional flow. It’s hard to imagine a more fitting goodbye to the Nobunaga’s Ambition franchise and Tenshouki left no doubt that there were great things ahead – both for Kanno and for orchestral game music, a genre she helped pioneer.

Conversion notes

Tenshouki continued the trend of Nobunaga’s Ambition games receiving fewer and fewer contemporary ports. Different to Haouden – and more similar to Bushou Fuuunroku – the score’s chiptunes versions effectively use the same material as the orchestral score. As a result, the FM Towns and SNES ports rank as some of the best soundtracks on their respective system (and of course the SNES version does the orchestrally-minded compositions more justice). However, this similarity in material also means that the orchestral version ultimately makes the chiptunes scores redundant. They do provide some additional material not heard on the orchestral recording – specifically several battle cues – but these aren’t quite strong enough to warrant considering the chiptunes scores as valid alternatives. That being said, listeners enjoying the characteristic sound of the FM Towns or SNES’ soundchips should give these versions of Tenshouki a listen.

01 - The Hawk of Turbulent Times Kanno, Yoko 1:56
02 - Distant Fields Kanno, Yoko 3:05
03 - Crescent Moon on the Lake Kanno, Yoko 3:21
04 - Summer Squall Kanno, Yoko 2:54
05 - Spring Waves Kanno, Yoko 1:49
06 - Supreme Ruler Suite -Warsaw Edition- Kanno, Yoko 4:56
07 - The Cloudy Road Kanno, Yoko 3:52
08 - Wind Orchid Kanno, Yoko 2:00
09 - Flowery Wind Kanno, Yoko 3:47
10 - Encampment Under the Moonlight Kanno, Yoko 2:31
11 - Shining Battlefield Kanno, Yoko 1:55
12 - Yonder Dreams Kanno, Yoko 5:19
13 - Distant Blue Kanno, Yoko 6:45

Romance of the Three Kingdoms IV Soundtrack (PC-98 – Soundware Version)

Romance of the Three Kingdoms IV Soundtrack (PC-98), Jun Nagao, 1994

As with Nobunaga’s Ambition, developer KOEI tended to make only incremental changes to the gameplay formula of its other flagship series, Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Heavy on strategising, resource management and processing stats while set in feudal China, Romance of the Three Kingdoms IV: Wall of Fire differed little from its franchise predecessors of historical turn-based strategy titles. Still, reviewers agreed that as long as you were tuned into this particular kind of games that favoured depth over action and fancy visuals, Wall of Fire provided addictive entertainment. As was common during the early 1990s, the game was ported to several computer and console platforms (even the 32X!) – not that there was much perceivable difference between the ports, with the 32-bit versions of the game looking virtually identical to their 16-bit brethren.

However, there was one component of Wall of Fire’s presentation that quickly stood out – and that was the soundtrack of the PC-98’s Soundware version. In the years before Romance of the Three Kingdoms IV, KOEI had begun to revolutionise game music. After all, this was the company that commissioned the first orchestral game score (Hiroshi Miyagawa’s Pacific Theatre of Operations in 1989). It also launched Yoko Kanno’s astonishing career with a series of game score recordings using live ensembles. In 1992, for the first time, Kanno had been given access to a standard-sized orchestra to record Nobunaga’s Ambition: Haouden and KOEI must have liked what they heard.

While previous Romance of the Three Kingdoms scores had only sparsely used classical elements (RoTK 2 and 3 even went for synth-rock), Wall of Fire dramatically changed the franchise’s musical direction. It became the first Japanese orchestral game score to be recorded overseas. The ensemble in question was the ‘Hungary Philharmony Orchestra’ (according to the liner notes – likely a mistranslation that might refer to the Hungarian National Philharmonic?), recording the soundtrack in December 1993. KOEI’s choice of composer for this groundbreaking undertaking was intriguing: young classically-trained composer Jun Nagao, who delivered his first and only game score with the Romance of the Three Kingdoms IV soundtrack. Focusing otherwise on his career as a classical composer, Nagao also worked as an orchestrator on Joe Hisaishi’s Le petit poucet, and none other than monster hit Spirited Away.

Keeping Nagao’s artistic background in mind is crucial when processing the unrestrained splendour of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms IV soundtrack. In short, no other game soundtrack feels so much like a piece of (brilliantly conceived) classical music. In fact, it seems that Nagao treats this scoring assignment as an excuse to write a series of short concert pieces. Generally speaking, his style is that of post-Straussian opulence. He elicits a head-spinning riot of orchestral colours from the ensemble while moving further and further away from traditional tonality – but without entirely forsaking it (Alexander Scriabin or Frederick Delius make for fitting points of comparison).

The result is a work whose harmonic language and orchestrations reach a level of refinement virtually unmatched in the realm of game music. Think of the most luscious and virtuosically scored portions of an already masterful score like EverQuest II (such as “Antonica”). Then imagine this degree of compositional sophistication taken up another notch and sustained across an entire album, such is the mind-boggling excellence of this score. Upon its release, the Romance of the Three Kingdoms IV soundtrack did nothing less than set a new standard for orchestral game scores – one which might well remain unmatched to this day.

Put simply, every composition on this score is an embarrassment of riches. Despite his orchestrations’ opulence, Nagao largely avoids overt displays of militarism or forceful bombast – although when he does go there, the results are jaw-dropping. “Opening: Soaring Heaven” does its name proud – intricately arranged brass fanfares backed by layers and layers of trilling woodwinds and soaring strings turn the piece’s beginning into the most spectacular curtain-raiser. From here on, Nagao develops the cue into a truly epic concert overture, encapsulating an entire world within less than six minutes, organically moving from one gorgeously scored passage to the next. The piece culminates in appropriately stunning fashion when ascending strings push the brass section from one heroic fanfare to the next, surrounded by swirling harps.

“Dragon Fortress ~ Blazing Hope ~ A Glorious Death ~ Field of Death” is more single-minded. After its monolithic start, the cue transforms its initially sparse material into an animated battle track of always high drama, whipping the music forward at levels of breathless intensity reached by hardly any other orchestral game score. “Sea God ~ Dark River ~ Funeral” brings its action material more in line with the soundtrack’s supremely colourful expressiveness, before segueing into a terser episode of understated tension that recalls the nocturnal passages of Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 7. It makes for a most fitting prelude to the cue’s funereal close, full of sombre pathos and showing how Nagao can also work wonders with more fractured melodic material.

The majority of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms IV soundtrack luxuriates in more pastoral moods, with each cue unearthing another individualistic approach. “Bamboo Hermit” highlights how Nagao manages to evoke the game’s exotic settings through creative orchestrations that don’t require Chinese instruments. In this case, it’s a cor anglais solo with gentle folk touches that conjures the cue’s required Eastern atmosphere, supported by wooden xylophone and harp. What’s more, Nagao’s orchestral colours subtly invoke a location ever so slightly removed from our world, accommodating yet full of mystery. “Green Ripple” achieves a similarly heady effect. The composition surrounds its dramatically undulating cello and flute soli with a busy, continually attacking dulcimer line on one stereo channel and a relentlessly forward-pushing piano rhythm on the other. And “Balmy Breeze” emerges as nothing less than a fully-fledged, absolutely delectable chamber music trio for French horn, piano and violin.

Other compositions on the Romance of the Three Kingdoms IV soundtrack combine these more romantic strains with the breadth and gravitas exhibited so convincingly on “Opening: Soaring Heavens”. “Hazy Stream ~ Uprising ~ Heaven” is as dazzlingly multi-faceted as the album opener. At times it enters piano concerto territory and delivers the score’s most heart-meltingly beautiful melodies before it ultimately climaxes with a finale worthy of a grand symphony when various orchestral lines and melodies pile up to utterly triumphant effect. “Flower Banquet ~ Ending: Horizon of Light” concludes the soundtrack with as much sweeping emotion and reminiscing as one could hope for – it truly is as majestic and melodically ravishing as the best Golden Age movie score closing cues.

However, it’s “Purple Swallow Palace” which might be the score’s most striking piece – and that’s saying something. Applying the soundtrack’s romanticism to the cue’s imperial location, Nagao creates an almost exhaustingly monumental effect by contrasting his ostinato string material’s rigid nature with its peerlessly varied treatment. The resulting textural density becomes more complex still, thanks to the surprising warmth of the cue’s orchestrations and melodies. After such an intense first half, the music relaxes briefly, only for the piano to push the piece forward again into ebbing and swelling crescendi and decrescendi of Ravel-like colours. Finally, the stunning conclusion: a trumpet solo gliding over bubbling and roiling orchestral dissonances, as if bringing order to cosmic chaos. What could be more fitting to underscore an emperor’s might? Not much – and there’s undoubtedly also no better proof of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms IV soundtrack’s breathtaking brilliance.

01 - Opening: Soaring Heaven Nagao, Jun 5:39
02 - Bamboo Hermit Nagao, Jun 3:04
03 - Hazy Stream ~ Uprising ~ Heaven Nagao, Jun 6:57
04 - Purple Swallow Palace Nagao, Jun 3:18
05 - Drunk Moon Nagao, Jun 3:27
06 - Dragon Fortress ~ Blazing Horse ~ A Glorious Death ~ Field of Battle Nagao, Jun 4:45
07 - Balmy Breeze Nagao, Jun 2:53
08 - Green Ripple Nagao, Jun 3:10
09 - Sea God ~ Dark River ~ Funeral Nagao, Jun 5:46
10 - Diaochan Nagao, Jun 3:34
11 - Flower Banquest ~ Ending: Horizon of Light Nagao, Jun 4:52

Shien’s Revenge Soundtrack

Shien’s Revenge Soundtrack, Akihiko Mori, 1994

In retrospect, the Super Scope seems like one of the more bizarre peripherals designed for the SNES – particularly considering how hard Nintendo tried to cultivate a family-friendly image during the era of the 16-bit console wars. Exactly how many parents would have been pleased to see their offspring in front of the TV with a bazooka-like contraption is anyone’s guess. Arguably though, if there was a genre that benefited from the Super Scope’s controls, it was rail shooters, with their static field of view and necessity to quickly and precisely move the cursor around the screen.

One of the better received rail shooters on the SNES was Shien’s Revenge (despite what must rank as possibly the most boring cover art in the console’s history). Sending players through various locations and time zones, Shien’s Revenge’s colourful visuals managed to stave off some the monotony caused by the repetitive gameplay. For the game’s score, developer Almanic approached game sound company MINT. And this is where things become a bit confusing when we try to identify who composed the music for Shien’s Revenge.

The game’s credits list Michiya Hirasawa (founder of MINT), Tsukushi Sasaki and Akihiko Mori for “Music & Sound Effects”. Looking at Michiya Hirasawa’s resume, it’s obvious that his area of expertise was sound programming rather than music composition. Tsukushi Sasaki’s portfolio is rather slim and again includes more work on sound programming than on music. That – and the musical style of Shien’s Revenge soundtrack – suggests that this score was actually written by Akihiko Mori. Mori had delivered his breakthrough work with Lock On the year before and it might have well been on the strength of this soundtrack that he joined MINT. After several years of relatively infrequent output, this move to MINT heralded the beginning of an immensely productive period for Mori.

His enthusiasm about this change of circumstances – joining MINT likely meant more steady work – is audible throughout the entire Shien’s Revenge soundtrack. On Lock On, Mori had displayed his penchant for dense, elaborate instrumentations, applied to a jazz/rock/orchestra genre mix. On most of Shien’s Revenge, Mori applies the same talent to orchestral action music, with thrilling results. Very few SNES composers match Mori’s talent to write astoundingly rich orchestral music, hyper-charged here through the game’s frantically-paced gameplay.

Listening to many of Mori’s compositions, it’s remarkable just how many ideas he crams into a single piece, even if it’s shorter than one minute (unlooped). New melodies, rhythms and instrumental colours whizz by at breakneck speed, and yet Mori is able to control his cues’ consistency and flow. This is a composer who doesn’t just write orchestrally-styled SNES music, but knows how to handle the (synth) ensemble at hand like an actual orchestra.

Try out “Burning Fortress”, an orchestral powerhouse that changes its lead instrument every few seconds, but maintains constant forward propulsion. Never sticking with one melody or rhythm for very long, “Burning Fortress” is game music that’s closer to film soundtracks or classical music than the vast majority of SNES orchestral scores. “With Cap and Baton” is equally possessed of indomitable energy, but also maintains nervous tension through its jittery rhythms and several stops and starts. The most breathless example of Mori’s anything-and-the-kitchen-sink approach is “Military Castle”, which perfectly balances repetition (heavy rhythms and hammering piano chords) with an immensely varied structure.

The sheer amount of orchestral busyness and details doesn’t mean that Mori entirely foregoes slower material and mood-building exercises. “Misty Landside Street” remains within the soundtrack’s action-packed template, but its fluttering woodwind calls, quivering strings and sustained, cleverly implemented background chords paint a potent image of the cue’s hazy location. Other breathers arrive in the shape of “Fear Factory” and “Hallucination”. It’s particularly on the game’s excursions into future time zones that Mori drops the frenzy of his other pieces, but still maintains the soundtrack’s intensity. “Fear Factory”’s fairly static material is still captivating, thanks to how unpredictably its elements – a 4/4 bass pulse, uneasy flute and brass chords – interact with each other. “Hallucination” almost ventures into horror score territory, when an oppressive string melody and harp arpeggios are followed by nothing but dissonant, creepily echoing piano chords.

Indeed, while Mori’s handling of traditional orchestral forces is nearly perfect on the Shien’s Revenge soundtrack, he is absolutely capable of infusing his palette with less classical elements. Not that Shien’s Revenge is as much of a genre mix as Lock On, but the game’s time-travelling element gives Mori a welcome excuse to add yet more colours to his music. The game’s Japan levels receive the expected pentatonic string progressions and local woodwind colours, integrated seamlessly into the turbulent orchestrations.

The difference between these tracks and those set in Manchuria and Mongolia is subtle, but very much present, as Mori manages to give each location its own signature sound. No doubt the biggest challenge would have been to find the right sound for the game’s ancient Greece stages. Mori’s solution – monolithic rhythms, declamatory ostinati and crashing melodies – isn’t entirely surprising, but once more integrated perfectly. And the focus on wooden xylophones on “Zombie Taurus” is an inspired and effective choice.

Towards the end of the Shien’s Revenge soundtrack, once the game’s sci-fi trappings come through more clearly, electronic elements make their presence felt more strongly – but so do rock guitars and drums. “Masked Ninja Robot” is an intriguing change of style after the orchestral rush that preceded it – a mid-tempo rock track with electronic backing that is both terse and melodic through its unpredictable guitar soli. Final boss track “Bad Dream” picks up the same rock/electro/orchestra combination and turns it into something more conventionally powerful and spectacular. Its heroic trumpet lead spearheads a composition whose hard rock sounds only make the music denser and more dramatic still. No wonder than that “Ending” closes with enthusiastic, impressive dual guitar heroics that close the Shien’s Revenge soundtrack on the most exuberant note – the perfect summation of this joyfully bustling score.

01 - Prologue Akihiko Mori 2:21
02 - Training Akihiko Mori 1:05
03 - Burning Fortress (Stage 1-1: 16th Century Japan) Akihiko Mori 1:39
04 - Misty Landside Street (Stage 1-2: 16th Century Japan) Akihiko Mori 1:22
05 - With Cap And Baton (Boss 1: Sawtooth) Akihiko Mori 2:13
06 - Riverside Rumble (Stage 2-1: 300 B.C. Manchuria) Akihiko Mori 1:50
07 - Swimming Firedragon (Boss 2) Akihiko Mori 2:05
08 - Occupied Metropolis (Stage 3-1: 20th Century France) Akihiko Mori 1:30
09 - Military Castle (Stage 3-2: 20th Century France) Akihiko Mori 1:48
10 - Mongolian Ride (Stage 4-1: 13th Century Mongolia) Akihiko Mori 1:18
11 - Wild Wrestling (Boss 4: Bangol, Commander of Genghis Khan's Troops) Akihiko Mori 2:15
12 - Fear Factory (Stage 5-2: 21th Century South America) Akihiko Mori 1:36
13 - Masked Ninja Robot (Boss 5: The Undertaker, Most Powerful Mercenary in the Empire of Eldorado) Akihiko Mori 3:04
14 - Greece Temples (Stage 6-1: 500 B.C. Greece) Akihiko Mori 1:56
15 - Zombie Taurus (Boss 6: Argos) Akihiko Mori 2:14
16 - Bad Dream (Boss Final: Tempor) Akihiko Mori 2:27
17 - Rescued? Akihiko Mori 1:44
18 - Epilogue Akihiko Mori 3:17
19 - Ending Akihiko Mori 3:27

Top Gear 2 Soundtrack (Amiga)

Top Gear 2 Soundtrack (Amiga), Patrick Phelan, 1994

At least in its SNES incarnation, the Top Gear franchise remains quite fondly remembered to this day. However, looking at contemporary reviews, it’s evident that the series has always proved somewhat divisive. More than a few critics pointed out that the Top Gear games presented a no-frills, arcade-style approach to racing that produced solid but not necessarily spectacular results. The fact that developer Gremlin Graphics (later Gremlin Interactive) used the Top Gear games to effectively regurgitate its Lotus titles only amplified the feeling of ‘been there, done that’. Still, Top Gear 2 remains the franchise’s best-regarded entry – while it played like a mere expansion pack of its predecessor, it made enough tweaks to improve upon Top Gear.

That was on the SNES though. Once Top Gear 2 reached the Amiga in 1994, reviewers were decidedly less pleased with the game. Several highlighted its lack of innovation and the fact that the title didn’t meet the standards set by the Lotus games a few years earlier. The one area in which the Amiga port ultimately did excel was its soundtrack, matched within the Top Gear franchise only by Barry Leitch’s Top Gear Rally. After Leitch had set the musical foundations for the Top Gear and Lotus franchises, Patrick Phelan had taken over composing duties on both series, further developing their electronica-heavy scores and mixing in contemporary mid-90s influences.

The Lotus and Top Gear series have indeed generated lots of fond memories amongst vintage game music fans due to some standout compositions. However, what’s intriguing is that before Top Gear 2, none of these games actually managed to put together a consistently strong soundtrack experience (take Lotus Turbo Challenge 2, which outside of its excellent intro and ending cues only consists of short course themes that don’t achieve much). Phelan’s Top Gear 2 soundtrack (on the Amiga) is the series’ first score that satisfies all the way through – yes, it’s only three tracks long, but each composition hits the mark.

Again, things aren’t all that straightforward though once you look at the various versions of this score. Top Gear 2 originated in 1993 on the SNES, so one might assume that this soundtrack is the one to go for. But while the SNES score (like the Genesis port) features five rather than three tracks, it is the chain’s weakest link. Its tone is significantly thinner than what the Genesis and Amiga muster and has nowhere near the impact of those versions. It tries to overcome this caveat through significantly faster tempi but ultimately only feels rushed and relatively insubstantial.

The Genesis port fares better – it can’t match the Amiga samples’ power but offers some intriguing alternative perspectives on the same melodic material. The Amiga version mostly succeeds based on its anthemic melody declamations. On the Genesis, the same tunes are heard on rubbery synth notes that fade into each other, creating more complex textures.

While the Lotus and Top Gear scores were products of their time, they incorporated more than just 90s electronica. Nowhere is this more obvious than on the Top Gear 2 soundtrack’s “Burn Rubber” (“Canterbury Plains” on the console versions). There’s no shortage of memorable melodies in the Lotus and Top Gear games, and Phelan delivers one of these franchises’ best tunes: a triumphant, 80s-inspired melody line backed by proud synth fanfares that’s ready to get the crowd at a sold-out stadium concert roaring. The elastic, forceful bass gives the catchy composition a contemporary edge before the melody segues nicely into a note-shredding solo that’s as enthusiastic as the rest of the music, while kicking the cue into a higher gear. The interaction between melody and chordal accompaniment (those fanfares) is a bit more complex than one might expect, underpinning this perfectly-written power anthem with some welcome substance.

The melodies on “Destructive Comment” (“Ayers Rock” elsewhere) are as enduring as on “Burn Rubber”, but here the Top Gear 2 soundtrack gets a bit more adventurous. Initially, “Destructive Comment” rocks harder than what’s come before – its stomping drums and driving rock bass again show how Phelan pushes the Amiga to its limits on this score. But then the cue introduces a floaty synth pad backdrop and a lead melody whose watery timbre lands the music in trance territory. Typical for its genre, the trance lead on “Destructive Comment” is more repetitive than the synth-rock tune guiding “Burn Rubber”. However, Phelan cleverly changes the melody’s pitch to help its longevity, and its almost hammered staccato nature takes on an unexpectedly dramatic character when placed against the spacious, static synth backdrop. Like “Burn Rubber”, it’s a hymn to the joys of high-speed racing, only realised with different means.

“Night Train” most firmly plants its feet in 90s electronica with much more pronounced grooves and house piano riffs (and yes, this is the track with the famous “You might be missing some of the benefits that stereo can provide” voice sample). Still, the Top Gear 2 soundtrack keeps dishing up subtle surprises, as Phelan mixes his electronic influences with a robust acoustic bass that delivers a fantastic, tight rhythm. It lays the foundation for the horn samples and handclaps Phelan mixes in later – now the score has arrived on the dance floor, thanks to a perfectly concocted house/funk hybrid. As on previous tracks, Phelan also uses breakdowns judiciously to sustain his reasonably long compositions and organically shape their flow. It took a little while, but Gremlin’s signature racing games finally produced a genre classic.

01 - Burn Rubber Phelan, Patrick 4:00
02 - Destructive Comment Phelan, Patrick 4:48
03 - Night Train Phelan, Patrick 4:09