Review Summary: worldbuilding.
In the summer of 2012, my excitable and curious new music teacher handed me a CD. He didn't tell me anything about it, rather opting to leave a note on the inside of the case; "listen to this album from start to finish". I was unaware that the album in question was the accompaniment for a video game titled
Bastion, and so I simply treated the record as an instrumental project for me to dig my teeth into. It didn't take too long for me to add two and two together but my realization of the soundtrack's game-based elements wasn't nearly enough to distract me from what was going on internally. Rustic wastelands of dirt and steel. Musty aromas and autumnal palettes. Though basic enough for the video game format, Darren Korb had managed to pull me into the world of
Bastion without me ever stepping through a menu screen. A craggy, elderly narrator's occasional quips would act as signposts as I navigated a kooky, cryptic landscape with childlike wonder.
Regardless of me never actually setting foot into the world of
Bastion, my radar was locked in on Darren Korb's compositional talents. His next project was titled
Transistor, an isometric RPG game set in a future riddled with robotic autonomy and grimy underworlds. What surprised me most about my time spent with
Transistor wasn't the invigorating gameplay or meticulously crafted visuals. Rather, it was the incredible quality of the soundtrack, and even more than that, the lack of connection I felt to it. It took a decent amount of time for me to fully identify the crux of this disconnect; the world of
Bastion Darren Korb's soundtrack introduced to me was fully visualized and characterized by my response to the music. Having actually played
Transistor in full, there was no room for me to rule my own sandbox. With an entire world built around the soundtrack already, there was nothing left for me to create. Paired with my general distaste for the gameplay, and it became apparent my issue with Korb's effort had nothing to do with him. Supergiant Games had done all of the busywork, and I was left twiddling my thumbs.
The magic of
Pyre as a soundtrack has less to do with mythical immersion and more to do with being absolutely straightforward. Without even touching the game itself, it is clear that certain tracks are made to serve very specific contexts. "Path to Glory" has all of the trappings of an arena brawl; rapid electronica brings a sense of urgency to anthemic, oriental leads and a bass-heavy midsection manages to pluck raw energy seemingly out of thin air. The following track, "Life Sentence", sits on the exact opposite end of the spectrum, acting as background noise for navigating libraries of in-game lore. Where tracks such as "The Eight Scribes" and "Through the Valley" use predominantly acoustic instrumentation with the purpose of building quirky and curious soundscapes, the likes of "Night Howlers" and "Thrash Pack" rely on distorted riffing and synthetic elements to push a game-centric tone. Every song here serves a clear purpose. There is no denying this is a video game soundtrack. Yet, Korb doesn't use the sense of self-awareness as an excuse to skimp on arguably less important soundbites.
It was a pleasant surprise when the towering organs of "The Old Ways" became punctuated by a grooving, punchy retro kit.
Pyre is loaded with flag posts pointing to the nature of game soundtracks, but its strict acceptance of the stereotypes allows for it to break immersion without breaking consistency. In a sense, the arcadey aesthetic that hangs over most of the music within this soundtrack in itself became somewhat hypnotic; it's as if the simple repetition of game tropes (executed well enough, mind you) became its own form of immersion. Closer "Bound Together" is unapologetic with its ample portions of cheese and absurd theatrics, and even still, I can't help but be impressed at just how contained this soundtrack is from beginning to end.
Darren Korb isn't the be all and end all of video game music composers. His sound, while wide in scope, is yet to reach its full potential. The uniformity of his production techniques across all of his works is both a positive for those looking back and a slight concern for those looking forward, but I can say with 100% certainty that Korb understands the importance of a soundtrack's role in a game like few else. Even if the game in question leaves much to be desired, the confidence of Korb's compositions is more than enough to stand on their own merit. Should the game accompaniment in this case be but a fraction as entrancing as this auditory tale, I have no doubt
Pyre will be gracing the screens of many for years to come.
