Video game music has changed and evolved with the current trends. For the musicians creating it, things have never been better.
CombiChrist tends to inspire deep devotion. The Norwegian band makes ultra-heavy metal, and their fans are some of the most loyal in music. The CombiChrist Army, they call them: kids with insane hair and thick tattoos, rocking the band鈥檚 winking skull logo on their T-shirts. This year, CombiChrist gave fans a new record, No Redemption. Heavy as hell it was, percussion pounding the life out the speakers, guitars turned all the way up. But No Redemption was sort of special, because every song on it was originally composed for a video game.
The game was DMC (Devil May Cry), a superlative hack-and-slasher where you, as half-demon-half-angel Dante, carve your way through the legions of Hell. It was a reboot of a classic PlayStation franchise, and, for this version, UK developers Ninja Theory did the honours. They enlisted CombiChrist along with Dutch dubstep demons Noisia to create the soundtrack from scratch. Andy LaPlegua, the band鈥檚 somewhat pale and interesting frontman, had never worked on a game before. All at once, he had to put aside his own creative vision and work with a product that was changing every day. 鈥淚 had no idea what I was getting into,鈥 he says. 鈥淚鈥檇 never done that kind of work before. But it was a really cool way to work, because it was so different.鈥
Video game developers asking well-known musicians to make music for their games is nothing new. But, over the past couple of years, it has been happening more and more often, and there has been a real shift in the power musicians now have. This isn鈥檛 just a case of game companies licensing music that has already been made; while that still happens, particularly on big franchises, it鈥檚 more and more the case that artists are being asked to make bespoke tunes and are having to adjust to making music in ways that they have never experienced before.
Ninja Theory is the pioneer. For the 2010 game Enslaved: Odyssey To The West, they enlisted composer Nitin Sawhney. But others have got in on the act, too. Trent Reznor, of Nine Inch Nails, worked on Call of Duty while Detroit producer Celldweller has scored everything from Assassin鈥檚 Creed to Dead Rising. These are major, established artists, being pulled in to work their magic.
Before we talk about just how they do this 鈥 because make no mistake, it鈥檚 a weird process 鈥 it鈥檚 worth a little history lesson. To do that, Johnny-come-latelys like CombiChrist and Celldweller aren鈥檛 going to cut it. We need a vet. We need someone like Anna Karney. Karney has made music for dozens of games, starting out on sports and gambling games in the 1990s before progressing to bigger fare like 2003鈥檚 Armed And Dangerous. Her music has always emphasised acoustic stuff over the electronica that gamers have become used to, and she has an established career as a singer-songwriter. When we call her up, the Bay Area composer is in the middle of a school production of A Midsummer Night鈥檚 Dream; she puts the phone on speaker so her class can listen in on the interview.
One of our assumptions is shattered right away: established musicians working on games isn鈥檛 a new phenomenon. 鈥淚n the 1990s, it was more common for independent artists to create music,鈥 says Karney. 鈥淏efore [Sim City creator] Maxis was bought by Electronic Arts, they hired composers from all over the Bay Area, and we, in turn, hired musicians. When EA bought it out, all of that stopped. Right around 2003, the transition from most of us being independent to most of us being hired by a corporation happened.鈥 That was the problem. The big corporations were starting to move out of Japan and head West. Others flourished: not only EA, but companies like Activision and THQ. These were outfits that favoured big names, and in-house composers who could deliver cinematic experiences on a budget. Not that Karney thinks this was necessarily bad for the quality of music: 鈥淚t was stellar work,鈥 she says. 鈥淭he bar got raised. You had to start from square one and prove yourself all over again, and they were very vested in composers who had made their mark on big-budget games. For composers like myself it became 鈥 not impossible, but in order to keep going you had to start making music for any game that came your way, and I didn鈥檛 want to do that. After doing it for 15 years, I decided to do something different.鈥 But, bizarrely, this is one aspect of video game making that has come entirely full circle. Independent artists are back in the spotlight again, the only difference being that they鈥檙e likely to have already made a name for themselves before they get tapped for games.
The actual process for composing game music takes a while to wrap your head around. As a composer, it鈥檚 not just that you suddenly can鈥檛 indulge your own creative impulses; it鈥檚 that you have to match them to what鈥檚 happening in the game. And, by the way, you鈥檙e not composing to a finished product 鈥 no, Sir. Games take ages to develop, and it鈥檚 only towards the end of this process that they start to look awesome. Before that, it鈥檚 all placeholder footage and sketchy animations. As an artist, you鈥檙e working to blueprints here 鈥 ones which may change at any moment, leaving you to throw out the music you鈥檝e been working on and start again.
Scott Albert knows this better than anyone. As Celldweller, he鈥檚 brought his aggressive electronica to games numbering in the double figures. Albert is one of those people with almost unquenchable energy 鈥 when we speak, he says that he鈥檚 working on a score for a book based on his last album. 鈥淭he sounds I鈥檝e been hearing in my head for so many years, that I just make as an artist, really work for video games,鈥 he says. 鈥淲hen I make music, it鈥檚 a visual thing. I鈥檓 creating something that鈥檚 painting the picture I鈥檓 seeing in my head. Many times they will have specific things they want and don鈥檛 want. When I create music for myself, it can be anything I want, but when it鈥檚 commissioned, you are guided. You get rough animations, cinematics 鈥 they put you in the environment so you know what you鈥檙e making music to.鈥
Composers have to work with stems 鈥 short segments of a track which can either loop or develop into fully-fledged songs depending on what鈥檚 happening in the game. Karney herself favours acoustic over electronic production: 鈥淚n many ways, acoustic music is easier because you can say to somebody 鈥榙o that鈥 and they鈥檒l do it. With electronic, you have to create nuances yourself. Everything has to be programmed, and it鈥檚 very time-consuming.鈥
However, there鈥檚 still one question: why? Why bring in an expensive, big-name artist to score your game when an in-house producer would do just as fine a job? The answer is all in the money. Games are better, budgets are bigger. Sales are more important than ever. DMC could go to the shops with Noisia and CombiChrist namechecked on the back of the box 鈥 a fact which helped it do reasonably well (Publisher Capcom couldn鈥檛 confirm sales figures, though projected sales worldwide are 1.2 million). And it鈥檚 debatable whether Trent Reznor helped Call of Duty sell, but 25 million copies don鈥檛 lie. For artists, the exposure to new audiences is invaluable.
Composers are getting more freedom, too. Independent game developers and smaller companies have blossomed, and they鈥檙e becoming more inclined to trust the people making their music. 鈥淣inja Theory were absolutely amazing,鈥 says LaPlegua. 鈥淚 was blessed to be working with them, and not with [DMC published and former developer] Capcom. They鈥檙e a really old, multi-million-billion dollar company where everything is lawyers and sales and distribution.鈥 Of course, there really isn鈥檛 anything to stop artists 鈥 with the developer鈥檚 blessing, of course 鈥 releasing their game music as a full album, as CombiChrist did. 鈥淚 wanted to release it as a full album,鈥 says LaPlegua. 鈥淎nytime you do music that way, somehow it feels as if it belongs on a release.鈥
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Rob Boffard
