#oneaday Day 127: What You Leave Behind

Well, I’ve done it. I’ve made it through all of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine at last, and I’m pleased to report that it was fantastic. A consistently excellent show from start to finish, and a real demonstration of why ’90s Trek is so fondly regarded to this day.

I should probably add at this point that there may be spoilers ahead. I have somehow managed to go this long without having any of the latter part of Deep Space Nine (which I hadn’t seen prior to this watchthrough) being spoiled to me, so on the offchance there’s anyone in the world still left in that position, I thought I’d give you due warning. After this image of Doctor Bashir and Garak smouldering with unresolved sexual tension, anything goes discussion-wise.

One of the things I’ve always liked about Star Trek is that it strikes a good balance between being convincingly “sciencey” and having quasi-mystical elements. That’s the kind of sci-fi I like: where there’s a high level of technology and cool spaceships, but also where there’s still stuff that science can’t quite explain, or which feels like it drifts somewhat into the realm of fantasy. As someone who enjoys nothing more than an RPG where you kill God (or equivalent) at the end, I always have time for pseudo-mystical fantasy, even in a sci-fi setting; in fact, I tend to find that particularly “hard” sci-fi — that is to say, sci-fi that paints an overly practical, “realistic” image of the future without any overtly fantastical stuff, is a bit of a turn-off.

Deep Space Nine had this right from its very first episode, where leading character Ben Sisko encounters “The Prophets”, aka the noncorporeal entities that live outside of linear time inside the Bajoran wormhole. And this element runs as a constant thread through the entire series, right up until its climactic confrontation, placing Ben Sisko, Emissary of the Prophets, up against his most fearsome foe: the Emissary of the Pah-wraiths, who, of course, turns out to be Gul Dukat.

Gul Dukat is a thoroughly interesting character throughout the entirety of Deep Space Nine, and played brilliantly by Marc Alaimo. Beginning as a somewhat smarmy individual that is clearly bitter about the Federation occupying the space station he used to be in charge of, the episodes that involve him reveal a character with a considerable amount of depth and complexity — and one who goes through almost as much shit as Miles O’Brien. Sadly for Dukat, he doesn’t pull through in the way O’Brien tends to; his eventual fate is unglamorous, but for him to be the “final boss” of the series, defeated by Sisko flinging himself into the fire with a Pah-wraith-possessed Dukat in tow, is entirely appropriate.

The whole Dominion War arc, which takes up a significant portion of Deep Space Nine’s complete runtime, is kept consistently interesting by allowing us to see it from a variety of different perspectives. Even the Dominion’s grunt soldiers, the Jem’Hadar, are given some complexity through episodes such as “Hippocratic Oath” and “Rocks and Shoals”. And the sinister twist of Section 31, while relegated somewhat to background lore, provides a good means of giving the Federation a bit of interest, too.

One of the things Deep Space Nine shows repeatedly is that even the forces we have previously been led to believe are the “goodies” have their dark sides — and likewise, traditional “baddies” can have solid redemption arcs, too. The narrative arc of Dumar, set up to be a character the audience is supposed to loathe when he kills Dukat’s daughter Ziyal — one of the few indisputably “good” characters in the series — is thoroughly fascinating, with his descent into alcoholism and bitterness and his emergence on the other side with a new-found determination to cast off the shackles of the Dominion’s oppression. It’s fitting that he die a martyr.

Kai Winn is another character who I was pleased to see eventually get their comeuppance. I wasn’t sure if they were going to go full-on “Evil Space Pope” with her during the finale, but it is, again, entirely fitting that she have all the power and glory denied to her at the last minute as Dukat steals the show. She was a consistently loathsome character throughout her entire run in the series, so seeing her fall to evil out of her lust for power and end up incinerated for it was thoroughly satisfying.

It’s kind of sad that the end of the series marked so many “farewells” from the regular cast, but it makes sense; Deep Space Nine was not the kind of Star Trek that would necessarily lend itself well to a movie in the same way as The Next Generation was, and so it felt appropriate for most people to go their separate ways at the conclusion. I was surprised at the inconclusive fate of Sisko himself — I was expecting him to pop back into existence, Q-style, towards the end of the episode — but again, with the buildup of him being part Prophet throughout the latter seasons, it made sense for him to at least temporarily be “at one with them”, if not actually dead.

Anyway, I’m relieved, as finishing Deep Space Nine now means I feel like I can engage with Trek media produced since that series finished. The Dominion War was such an important event in Star Trek canon that I had always been hesitant to engage with anything post-Deep Space Nine for fear of inadvertently spoiling myself, but now I feel like I’m free to explore the wider Trek universe, be that through other series or video games. And there are a fair few Trek video games I’m interested in trying.

That said, I do kind of want to see how Voyager goes for its whole run. That’s another one I haven’t seen all the way through, so as far as my Star Trek journeys go, that one might well be next on the list.

Later, though. We’re off on holiday on Monday, and I wanted to finish Deep Space Nine before then, as it would have been frustrating to have just a couple of episodes left and no means of watching them while we were away! Now I just need to finish Silent Hill 2 before the end of tomorrow and I can go away with no regrets…

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

Ode to Game Music 2: The Art of the Final Boss

This is going to be a somewhat self-indulgent (and lengthy) gush on one of my favourite topics to do with video games in general, and with their music in particular. But I promise that I won’t mention One Winged Angel at all in this post after this paragraph as I’m sure most people who are familiar with that of which I speak below will be overly familiar with this track already.

Oh, and if you’re reading this on Facebook come and read this on my proper page. It has streaming audio and everything.

Everyone ready? Let’s begin.

So, the final boss confrontation. To me, this can make or break a game. I remember learning very early on at school both when writing essays and preparing for performances that “people remember the beginnings and the ends of things more than anything else”. And it’s true. For me, by far the most memorable parts of many games are the very beginning and the very end. Sure, if the middle is interesting, compelling and/or fun I’ll be more inclined to make it from the beginning to the end, but I’ll be even more inclined to remember a game fondly if its finale is aurally spectacular. Conversely, if a final battle is somewhat underwhelming in terms of presentation, I’ll be less inclined to think of it favourably.

Take Diablo II, for example – I think most people agree that Diablo is a fantastic game, but for me that final battle with Diablo was utterly underwhelming, and it was the music that killed it completely. Or rather, it was the lack of the music that killed it completely. Diablo has an eerie, ethereal sort of soundtrack that doesn’t have much in the way of memorable tunes. Sure, it’s atmospheric and sure, its production values are higher than for many games (it is a Blizzard title after all) but dammit if I didn’t want something a bit more dramatic for battling the most evil thing in the history of ever!

So it is with this in mind that I want to share with you some of my favourite final boss confrontation soundtracks. The overdramatic climactic music may be something of a cliché to many people but I can’t get enough of it. If it involves “scary choirs”, a phrase a similarly-inclined friend and I coined a while back to describe the chorus in One Wi… I mean that song at the end of Final Fantasy VII… so much the better.

These are presented in no particular order, I should probably say. And if you have any similar examples, please feel free to share them in the comments.

Final Fantasy I (Origins Version): Last Battle (Nobuo Uematsu)

Start as you mean to go on, with a bit of Uematsu. While he is probably one of the first composers that people get interested in when they start looking into video game music, his “mainstream” (for want of a better word) doesn’t mean that his music isn’t worth looking at. On the contrary, in fact – the Final Fantasy series has typically had spectacular finales and a huge amount of this can be attributed to the music.

This piece is from the remake of Final Fantasy I for the PS1. If you’re unfamiliar with the first FF, the battle system consists of your party members standing on one side of the screen wafting their weapons around at a monster or monsters on the other side of the screen. There’s very little apparent physical interaction between them, and said monsters don’t animate at all.

That didn’t stop this piece of music making the final battle with Chaos (incidentally, just how many unimaginative RPG designers have used something as generic as “Chaos” for their final bosses since FFI?) super-dramatic and exciting.

This piece takes in all the JRPG finale clichés. Pipe organ? Check. Tinkly piano breaks? Check. Loosely based on the game’s main battle theme? Check. But I still love it.

Final Fantasy II (Origins Version): Battle Scene 2 (Nobuo Uematsu)

I’ll say now that I’m getting all the FF music out of the way first so those who think it’s been done to death (which, to be fair, it probably has) can happily skip to the later tracks.

Who’s still here? Oh good. This theme is from battling the Emperor at the close of Final Fantasy II, one of the less well-known FF games because many people hate, loathe and despise it with a passion. Me? I enjoyed it, and this music, while simple, was pleasant to experience at finale time.

The interesting thing (well, to me anyway) about this one is that the main motif of the theme also made a reappearance in the final confrontation of Final Fantasy IV when battling Zeromus. This also happened a couple of other times, with the chord sequence for Exdeath’s (still a dumb name) theme in Final Fantasy V bearing more than a passing resemblance to Sephiroth’s theme in Final Fantasy VII.

Talking of which…

Final Fantasy VII (Nobuo Uematsu)

I have two tracks to share for this one for the reason that it does one of the things I love best in a good final confrontation soundtrack – it takes one of the earlier themes in the game and expands on it. The next few tracks in this post revolve around this kind of idea.

So this track (Those Chosen by the Planet)…

…becomes this track (The Birth of a God).

Eventually, anyway. Give it time. At about 1:25 in, we get that Sephiroth theme coming back to kick some ass. I remember the first time I heard this it was one of those moments where you get an involuntary shiver down your spine. I know for a fact this doesn’t happen to anyone, but this one particular musical technique at work here – using a simple motif from an earlier piece of music in a completely different one, particularly if they are of markedly different styles – always has that effect on me, particularly if it’s used at a dramatic moment.

Then, of course, after this track, you get that other one that I’m not mentioning.

Neverwinter Nights: Hordes of the Underdark (Jeremy Soule)

Mr Soule is very fond of the technique I mention above, as is clearly demonstrated by both his work on Neverwinter Nights and Dungeon Siege (up next). The moody, creepy opening track from Hordes of the Underdark (which, so far as I’m aware at least, has no title other than “x2_title”) sets the scene for a descent into darkness with faint undertones of potential heroism ahead:

Slog your way through to the end of the game through its many traps, challenges and monsters and, musically, you end up almost right back where you started, but in a slightly different key at a slightly faster tempo with more screechy strings and clangy percussion:

There’s even some pipe organ in there. Well done that man.

Dungeon Siege (Jeremy Soule)

Dungeon Siege as a game was, to many people, a relatively forgettable action-RPG. It wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination bad, but most people seemed to think it was a fairly unremarkable game still riding the remnants of the Diablo II wave. Still, I remember it fondly for its music – in this case, both the very first and last tracks of the game providing strong “bookends” to the action.

Here’s the track you get for setting out on your journey:

This being Jeremy Soule, there’s more than a passing resemblance to the “sound” of Neverwinter Nights – if it ain’t broke don’t fix it, eh? – but to me, the main theme of Dungeon Siege is much more memorable. I know of people who have restarted the game many times simply to hear this music again. I was also delighted to discover that Dungeon Siege II also started with an alternative version of this theme.

Get to the end of the game (assuming it holds your attention, of course – and I maintain that it’s actually an entertaining experience worth playing through) and your battle with the final boss is accompanied by this stirring soundtrack:

Scary choirs, clangy percussion, a hurdy-gurdy break and… there it is, lurking around the 1:08 mark, that opening theme. Once I heard that, any trace of gaming fatigue I had was immediately gone and I had to finish this game to do justice to the excellent soundtrack. It’s strange. The adrenaline rush of the simple re-use of a musical motif – I often wonder if I’m the only one that this particular technique has an effect on. But then I think about how many composers out there do it and I know it can’t just be me.

Space Channel 5 (Hataya, Tokoi, Nanba, Ohtani featuring Ken Woodman and His Orchestra)

My love for Space Channel 5 has, of course, been well documented in the past but I feel it’s worth mentioning here simply because it’s a completely different soundtrack to what we’ve heard above – and yet it still uses that same technique, and it has that same effect on me.

Space Channel 5’s main theme, Mexican Flyer, is the basis for much of the rest of the game’s soundtrack – if not in terms of reusing motifs then at least stylistically, with the blaring horns and Sixties stylings providing a backdrop to many scenes in the two games in the series. It’s certainly a memorable, toe-tapping theme that sums up the “Gays In Space!” aesthetic nicely. So when I got to the end of Space Channel 5 Part 2 after, oh, the mighty 45 minutes of game that preceded it, I was immensely gratified to be dealing with the extremely bizarre and surreal finale accompanied by this piece:

This piece has everything I want from a finale – a bit of drama (0:33), a bit of cheesy false-hope “Yay! You did it!” (1:03) and cap it all with an ending that takes the main theme and builds on it from a simple vocal (1:20) up to everyone in the galaxy singing along with you (2:15). This is the kind of piece that makes you feel rotten if you fuck it up halfway through.

Persona 3 (Shoji Meguro)

There’s just one more example of what you have probably surmised is one of my favourite musical clichés to fall back on, and that is the great and brilliant Persona 3. I’m not sure much more needs to be said about this at this time other than the fact that The Poem for Everyone’s Souls…

…becomes, after 90+ hours, The Battle for Everyone’s Souls.

It, of course, is them followed by the final battle mix of Burn My Dread featuring, in Beige‘s own words, some Japanese guy “rapping the fuck out”.

Beyond Good and Evil (Christophe Heral)

Just two more, you’ll be pleased to know. First up is the spectacular soundtrack of Beyond Good and Evil which I want to draw attention to simply for its high production values and the great “bookending” of the game that these two tracks achieve.

Shortly after starting the game, you are thrust right into combat with a mysterious enemy you don’t know much about. During said battle, you are accompanied by this incredible piece of music that everyone who has played Beyond Good and Evil seems to comment on when describing the game’s amazingly strong opening sequence. Dancing with Domz certainly sets the scene for an epic battle.

The return to this style at the end of the game with the piece Sins of the Father is made all the more effective by the fact that much of the music in the middle of the game has been either of a somewhat “gentler” style, or when things did get hectic, a more “electronic”, “technological” sound. A return to the orchestral/choral stylings of the opening for the final confrontation helped, for me at least, to diminish the “Umm… what the fuck happened at the end of this game?” nonsense.

Trauma Center: New Blood (Atsushi Kitajoh)

I draw particular attention to Trauma Center here because I still find it utterly bizarre. I mean, we’re talking about a surgical action/puzzle/shooter game here. And let’s not forget the fact that the first Trauma Center game ended with you battling an illness that was “a form of Death itself” that had wrapped itself around the human heart.

I don’t know about you, but when I think about doctors, nurses and surgeons, pipe organs and scary choirs (there they are again) don’t spring immediately to mind. Neither do electric guitars. But what the hey. If you’ve played Trauma Center, you’ll know that it’s a sweaty-palmed and utterly terrifying experience, which these two pieces, heard during the final “battle” with the Cardia disease, reflect perfectly.

And on that note, it’s good night from me. Congratulations if you made it through all that, and I hope you’ve enjoyed some of my picks. If you have any other final boss musics that you’d like to share, please post ’em in the comments.

My next post on game music (which will happen when it happens and not before, dammit!) will likely revolve around the art of the end credits music.

EBA is a masterpiece

Many of you may already feel this way – others may think I’m talking out of my arse here, but I present for you the reasons why Elite Beat Agents is, in almost every way, a complete masterpiece of game design. You may wonder the timing of this post if you haven’t been following me on Twitter, but the fact is, following our discussion on the Squadron of Shame SquadCast about Okami, and bringing up EBA’s finale’s similarities with Okami’s (yes, really) I had an urge to play it again.

The fact that my DS went missing for a short period threatened to stymie this plan, but I eventually located it. It had somehow found its way into a cardboard box filled with discarded letters and things which had, subsequently, found itself under a chair. Exactly how this came to pass, I’m not sure, but it had certainly hidden itself well, making the ability to boot up EBA again a pleasurable experience.

So, why is this game so good?

Play mechanics

EBA is a fine example of the old mantra “easy to learn, difficult to master”. In terms of actually interacting with the game, all you have to do is tap on numbered circles on the DS’ touch screen in the correct order, in time with some ever-decreasing overlaid circles, preferably in time with the overlaid circle hitting the numbered circle. This, to help matters slightly, is in time with the music. Occasionally you have to drag the stylus along a pathway as well as tap, or frantically spin a big wheel around (producing, as does The World Ends With You, the dreaded “is he playing his DS or is he masturbating?” looks on the bus) – but aside from these three different moves, that’s it.

The challenge, of course, comes with the patterns in which these techniques are arranged. On the easiest difficulty level, you’re roughly tapping out the beat in quarter notes, occasionally with a few eighth notes thrown in later, but not that many. As the difficulty level cranks up, however, you find yourself tapping out “counter-rhythms” to what is already in the music, or drumming along with the rhythm section, or all manner of other things. Part of the challenge is in interpreting the on-screen patterns into physical movements and, subsequently, what they should sound like. By the time you reach the end of Hard mode and beat it, you’ll wonder how anyone could possibly move a stylus that quickly.

Music

It may sound pointless to mention this, but of course a rhythm action game is made or broken on the strength of its music. EBA has a selection of music that covers a pretty wide range of artists, and doesn’t limit itself to one genre. Okay, there’s quite a bit of guitar-based stuff, but at least there’s some variety within there, covering everything from Deep Purple to Avril Lavigne – and then besides that, there’s some interesting tracks that you wouldn’t necessarily expect to hear in a rhythm action game – Chicago’s “You’re the Inspiration” being one of them.

Addictiveness

EBA has the “addictiveness gene” down pat, and it achieves this in one very simple way – holding victory just tantalisingly out of reach, just ahead of where you are now. This is particularly apparent on the later levels of the hard difficulty, where you find yourself replaying songs over and over again, making a slight bit of progress each time. That slight bit of progress encourages you to try again, making you think that “next time might be the one”. Four hours later when you still haven’t finished the song and everyone around you never wants to hear “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” ever again, unlike many games, you don’t feel too bitter about the whole thing because you know for a fact that you’re slightly better than when you started.

This brings up an interesting point. I Tweeted the other day that shooters irritate me for forcing me to replay the same bits and hear the same dialogue over and over again if you fail – the example that sticks in my mind most of all is one section of Gears of War that came quite early on, and is the reason I gave up playing that game and swore never to touch it ever again. Entering a room, you are helpfully informed over the radio that there are “enemies everywhere” and that there’s a “sniper up above”. Every time you try it. And said sniper has a habit of killing you immediately. So you hear this A LOT.

So why doesn’t EBA irritate me in the same way? After all, hearing the same piece of music over and over again must grate. My theory is that because you’re constantly interacting with EBA during the piece of music, whereas in a shooter some dialogue tends to come in a bit of “downtime” – either running between locations or in a cutscene – you notice the repetition less.

Emotional impact

EBA is the last game I expected to have a genuine emotional impact on me when I played it, but it achieves it brilliantly – and it does this in several ways. Firstly, there’s the fact that the comic-strip “cutscenes” that precede each level are put together in such an entertaining way that, despite the fact you don’t get much time to get to know the characters, you really start to care about them. As a result of this, you feel that there’s a real sense of consequence if you fail. EBA is one of the few games I can think of where your failure actually causes other characters to cry – and I’m not talking some emo JRPG scene where a single tear falls from our normally stoic hero’s eye – I’m talking full-on inconsolable bawling their eyes out crying here. This makes you genuinely feel bad if you fuck up, and is another reason to try the stage again.

Secondly, the choice of music is just perfect for each stage. The best example I can think of, which had me wiping my eyes when I’d finished it, is the stage surrounding the little girl “Lucy”, whose father got into an accident and isn’t coming home. Lucy is convinced he’ll be back because he promised – and around the time of her father’s birthday, she urges her mother to “get the house ready for Daddy”. The emotion of this scene is clear from the opening of the preceding cutscene and continues throughout the course of the level, helped enormously by the choice of “You’re My Inspiration” as the music.

I was also interested to see EBA dealing with themes that you don’t often see dealt with – sure, dead parents are nothing new to, again, emo JRPG heroes, but to an innocent little girl?

OMG SPOILARZ

A proper finale

So many games fall at the last hurdle – the finale. Mess up the ending of your game and you’ll send people away with a distinctly bitter taste in their mouth. EBA successfully avoids this by using what may be something of a cliché amongst Japanese games – the entire cast of the game coming together behind you to “pray” to you and give you strength – but every time I see it, it works brilliantly. And to tie in with the emotional impact I mentioned above, when you finally do reach the end of that final song, the characters are in such a euphoric state that it would take a cold and harsh person to not feel exultant right there with them.

So there you have it. EBA is a masterpiece… in my opinion, at least.