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31 Days of Game Music: Resident Evil
May. 7th, 2012 10:09 pmI generally prefer 2D over 3D; though they've come a long way, I don't think computer graphics are as consistently expressive or communicative as is hand-drawn art. I could only throw up my hands when the 3D boom hit at the dawn of the 32-bit era and popular sentiment wanted to throw over sprite and hand-drawn graphics completely for the chunky, blocky 1st-gen crudities that make us wince now; it in great part led to me putting myself out of the loop when it came to new releases for a good, long while.
I have to admit, though, that the dawn of 3D allowed at least one genre, that of survival horror, to come into its own. Yeah, you had your Alone in the Darks beforehand (themselves in an ur-3D), but the ability to build a 3D environment, the presence of a camera, the capacity for more complex enemy AI allowed an immediacy to the horrific situation - a feeling that this was really happening to you, that there was no escape - that 2D couldn't match. Resident Evil was an experience when it first came out, a phenomenon; people talked of it in hushed tones, unbelieving that a terrifying experience like this was available through a console video game. I didn't play Resident Evil when it was first released, of course, but when it found its way into my Saturn several years later, I found it no less arresting than everyone else must have then.
The game still, though, chafed at its technical limitations. The 3D was effective for immediacy but still graphically crude; the voice acting was...well. The creators had a strong grasp on the use of camera angles to frame their horrific vistas in a cinematic mien, true, but some other aspect of the technical presentation had to be as well-wrought as the gameplay.
The composition above is the first you'll hear as you're set loose to explore the dreadful emptiness of the Resident Evil mansion's first floor, and it's like nothing you'd expect in a game about a S.W.A.T. squad taking on a manor of zombies - a stately cello whose rich sound is allowed ample berth and time to wander. The timbre of the cello is perfect for communicating deep, creeping malice, and the halfway-composition the instrument finds is expansive, unhurried - it underlines that this mansion is a vast place, that the problem lurking here is far greater than you or S.T.A.R.S. anticipated. Like the rest of the game most of the time, the track's so still - one lone cello emphasizing the player's loneliness in this unknown territory, the ever-present question mark of what's lurking out here beyond your sight. It lays a foundation of gravitas to the proceedings - though Wesker's Iceman 'do has two pounds of hair gel and the Master of Unlocking may carry a B-movie cadence to her voice, the menace and unease you feel are very much warranted.
Classical threat and grace, like the shuffle of the walking undead, is what one would least expect to find behind Resident Evil's polygon doors, but nothing else characterizes the old Spencer estate better. It passes the "John Carpenter's theme to Halloween" test: play it in your car stereo at night and see if you feel safe.
.
I have to admit, though, that the dawn of 3D allowed at least one genre, that of survival horror, to come into its own. Yeah, you had your Alone in the Darks beforehand (themselves in an ur-3D), but the ability to build a 3D environment, the presence of a camera, the capacity for more complex enemy AI allowed an immediacy to the horrific situation - a feeling that this was really happening to you, that there was no escape - that 2D couldn't match. Resident Evil was an experience when it first came out, a phenomenon; people talked of it in hushed tones, unbelieving that a terrifying experience like this was available through a console video game. I didn't play Resident Evil when it was first released, of course, but when it found its way into my Saturn several years later, I found it no less arresting than everyone else must have then.
The game still, though, chafed at its technical limitations. The 3D was effective for immediacy but still graphically crude; the voice acting was...well. The creators had a strong grasp on the use of camera angles to frame their horrific vistas in a cinematic mien, true, but some other aspect of the technical presentation had to be as well-wrought as the gameplay.
The composition above is the first you'll hear as you're set loose to explore the dreadful emptiness of the Resident Evil mansion's first floor, and it's like nothing you'd expect in a game about a S.W.A.T. squad taking on a manor of zombies - a stately cello whose rich sound is allowed ample berth and time to wander. The timbre of the cello is perfect for communicating deep, creeping malice, and the halfway-composition the instrument finds is expansive, unhurried - it underlines that this mansion is a vast place, that the problem lurking here is far greater than you or S.T.A.R.S. anticipated. Like the rest of the game most of the time, the track's so still - one lone cello emphasizing the player's loneliness in this unknown territory, the ever-present question mark of what's lurking out here beyond your sight. It lays a foundation of gravitas to the proceedings - though Wesker's Iceman 'do has two pounds of hair gel and the Master of Unlocking may carry a B-movie cadence to her voice, the menace and unease you feel are very much warranted.
Classical threat and grace, like the shuffle of the walking undead, is what one would least expect to find behind Resident Evil's polygon doors, but nothing else characterizes the old Spencer estate better. It passes the "John Carpenter's theme to Halloween" test: play it in your car stereo at night and see if you feel safe.
.
