Reviews of truly outstanding game music
A murder in a Medieval monastery? A wise monk, accompanied by a young, inexperienced companion, investigating the crime? It’s hard not to assume that The Abbey’s plot was more than a bit influenced by Name of the Rose. Then again, it’s an intriguing, still original enough set up for an adventure game. The Abbey wasn’t as well-received as Name of the Rose though, with reviewers handing out mostly middling scores.
There’s no doubt that real-time strategy games peaked in popularity during the second half of the 1990s. Their commercial success was kickstarted by the hugely popular Command & Conquer and Warcraft II: Tides of Darkness. For a few years, RTS games were all the rage (not that the genre is dead now). As a result, a glut of similarly-themed products soon hit the shelves. Differentiation – either by quality, innovation or style – became paramount for more ambitious developers.
No doubt, Michael Giacchino‘s body of work includes some of game music’s best and most influential orchestral scores. Specifically, it’s the Medal of Honor soundtracks that secured his name in the annals of game soundtracks. However, Giacchino’s most fascinating and curious work of game music is another one: the Turning Point: Fall of Liberty soundtrack.
In case the cover art – with its flame-engulfed pentagram – didn’t make it clear enough, Ultima VIII: Pagan was a far darker game than any of its predecessors. From Ultima IV: Quest of the Avatar onward, series creator Richard Garriott had turned the Ultima games into explorations of morality. These pioneering titles didn’t reward gamers for the usual monster killing and treasure hunting that governs RPGs. Instead, Garriott asked players to act virtuously while pondering ethical dilemmas that had no easy answer. Pagan followed the same design philosophy but added a grim twist. The game’s antagonist – the Guardian – transports the Avatar to his own realm Pagan – a blasted wasteland beyond redemption and hope.
Back in 1991, dedicated soundtrack releases for Western game soundtracks were pretty much unheard of. One of the pioneers was Origin Soundtrack, a compilation of music from some of Origin‘s high-profile games of 1990/91. Exactly how Origin Soundtrack came about still remains a bit of a mystery. What seems to be confirmed is that the album is an unauthorised collection of music. Its producer and engineer was veteran composer Martin Galway, who had just finished work on Wing Commander II. His aim was probably to showcase his work and that of other composers at Origin on a stand-alone basis.
Throughout the years, Andreas Waldetoft has been consistently churning out pleasingly melodic scores for Paradox Interactive’s history-themed strategy games. Titles like Europa Universalis III and Europa Universalis Rome showed promise during their moments of unrestrained melodicism. Unfortunately, various issues held these scores back from entirely fulfilling their promise.
There was a time when Viva Piñata was touted as one of the fledgling Xbox 360’s most important franchises, even accompanied by a tie-in television show. Ultimately, Viva Piñata didn’t go down in game history as anything close to a gamechanger or a classic like some of developer Rare’s previous titles. Still, the game’s colourful graphics and relatively novel nature as a first-person life and gardening simulation left a positive enough impression with reviewers and gamers. In fact, the feedback was strong enough for Rare to release a sequel titled Viva Piñata: Trouble in Paradise, allowing the developers to implement features they had to leave out of the first game due to time pressures.
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.
The SNES isn’t necessarily known for its abundance of adventure games – a genre that flourished far more on PCs than on consoles during the mid-1990s. However, there are some adventure gems to be unearthed in the SNES’ library of games and the Japan-only Wonder Project J is undoubtedly one of them. Not only that, but it might well be one of the most unique and creative SNES games (and has rightfully amassed somewhat of a cult following since its release). Taking inspiration from Adventures of Pinoccio, Astro Boy and some of Hayao Miyazaki’s movies, Wonder Project J sees the player indirectly controlling a young android boy, Pino. While there is a storyline to complete, the player’s main task is to teach and train the naive boy, praising and scolding him for his actions (his default reaction to seeing any new object is to eat it).
Wonder Project J was an entirely delightful SNES adventure game, but its relatively unusual storyline and gameplay mechanics – teaching a robot boy to behave like a proper human being – meant it would never be released in the West. However, the game was successful enough in Japan to warrant an N64 sequel – one of developer Almanic’s final titles (they had renamed to Givro in 1995). Interestingly enough, this time Western gaming publications took note – mainly because they had to somehow fill their pages during the continuous drought of new N64 games. Wonder Project J2 maintained its predecessor’s gameplay, gorgeous 2D graphics and main story idea – the robot that wants to become human, requiring tuition from the player, be it about small daily tasks or philosophical questions like the meaning and permanence of death.