The Sound of Music (Or Lack Thereof)

by Crystile

I sit down in my rock-hard chair, listening to my radio blaring rock from its 15-year-old speakers. Finding nothing worth listening to, I turn it off and start to turn on my CD player, connected to a pair of white speakers. But just before I press play, I pause. My ear picks up a multitude of noise: people talking, cars zooming by, drills whirring, dogs barking - the typical sounds of a neighborhood. Not to mention the raucous household across the street, playing bass booms like they’re in a concert.

As I listen to the sounds that defines a particular environment, my mind wanders to the RPG I am currently writing up (in my head). I sing tunes that I have composed mentally to different situations in the RPG – battle music, town music, cutscene music. They never remain the same, but that doesn’t matter here. I decide to try an experiment: I turn off the music.

The story plays in my head without notes, without time signatures, without orchestral tunes. Yet nothing changes. The main characters fights without the frenzied rhythm of a turbulent overture; the villain appears without the ominous mantra of a gothic choir; the towns come alive and teem with activity, all lacking a soothing ballad in the background. The only pieces of music I put in are the moans of the tortured, the laughter of the playful, the cries of the sorrowful; the rustle of green leaves on trees, the thump-thump of footsteps on tighly-packed soil, the howl of an incoming storm… not so much as a flute or trumpet, xylophone or piano.

I know that our world isn’t naturally silent. We hear our dads singing in the shower, gangs arguing about their “coolness”, babies wailing, wind blowing, crickets chirping, grass rustling, and birds twittering. Our ears catch a sophisticated melody of worldly noise, forming different sonatas and nocturnes according to their righteous environments. From this music, our minds analyze and acknowledge our surroundings, reacting to the interactive objects appropriately. Sound is a critical factor in interpreting our world; without it, one piece of the environmental puzzle is missing.

Is it possible then, that a game can be void of background music, and yet still attract the player? Can the character on the screen run to his/her destination without a gentle symphony filling in the air? When battle ensues, will the sounds of conflict represent the emotions felt on the battlefield? In short, can the sounds of normality, like the sounds of my neighborhood, convey the sense of immersion and belonging in a game, without the sound of formulated music?

This I ponder as I turn my radio back on to check for any songs I happen to love currently playing. And the sound of music in my RPG will have to have the right to remain silent, as anything said will be used against it.

…That was a bad joke. *sighs in silence*