Review Summary: Reclaim yourself
I must preface this review by stating that The House in Fata Morgana is one of the most overlooked and underappreciated masterpieces of fiction within the last decade. I urge anyone who has not yet experienced the visual novel to stop right now, buy the game on the platform of your choice, and experience one of the greatest stories told in any medium. While the soundtrack is easily accessible for a listen without context, there is no better way to experience the otherworldly levels of mystery, despair, and love of this soundtrack than within the game itself. I will refrain from major spoilers. Enjoy.
There exists a moment within the first act of
The House in Fata Morgana where I became enraptured. Sitting upon the conclusion of the games first act, it was a moment where I simply could no longer put the game down.
I must push forward, I need to know more. While most of what made this moment such an intoxicating incentive to uncover the many mysteries of the game’s world and characters can be contributed to the creative visual queues and gut wrenching writing, the one aspect that stood with me most was the hauntingly beautiful song that held the scene together. The viscerally named, “Dissected Body” (known in the game’s original score as “This Mutilated Body”), commenced a transcending moment for the game. The crippled operatic vocals gave way to a tremendous buildup of string driven discord. The crushing pressure of each section rising within the mix felt ever so real, their suspense and melancholy now became mine.
The five composers that helped build and create this genre-bending masterpiece of neoclassical post-rock, ambient, and piano music all perfectly encapsulate the many themes that "Fata Morgana" tackles. With five separate people creating music for the score, one would mostly be concerned about the variety of styles that could possibly conflict with the game’s tone and mood. Yet, these songs despite sometimes sounding unlike anything else on the OST present themselves as being distinctively “Fata Morgana”. The wide variety of genres that the game’s music tackles can at first be slightly overwhelming, yet even with the most jarring of genre changes such as the romantic classical piano piece, “La Meglio Gioventu” fading into the barbaric insanity of the chair creeks, hellish laughter, and mental distortion of “Mephitis”, the soundtrack flawlessly presents such pieces as holding a distinctively rightful place within the games soundtrack. Even the cigar smoking bar swing of the early 20th century found within “Ciao Carina” feels entirely at home within the world of “Fata Morgana”.
The game opens with the titular, “The House in Fata Morgana”, a gorgeous darkwave piano piece highlighted by Gao’s unbelievably beautiful voice. Longingness and regret fill her voice as bells and a dilapidated bass drum pave the way for hollowed whispering and pipes to take their place. The song establishes the melancholy of “Fata Morgana”, as its downtrodden introduction gives way to a short lived victory of horns as the story begins. Interestingly enough, the music’s lyrics are entirely hid behind a language barrier. Portuguese and French make up the entirety of the language of “Fata Morgana”’s music. While this may turn off some, it gives a distinct identity to many of the songs more pressing ballads. “Passing Fata Morgana” spins Gao’s vocals into a web of an unexplainably perfect love. Her voice bouncing off itself in perfect harmony as it reaches an otherworldly vocal driven crescendo. However, the game’s most famous track, “Giselle”, perhaps best exemplifies the beauty of the music’s language barrier. Gao’s subdued vocals cracking at the chorus’s subtle crescendo of strings is both crushing and assuring. Not a single word needs to be understood to convey the warmth that the song is meant to give off.
There is a lot of music to digest within “Fata Morgana”’s hefty four and a half hour soundtrack, with some of the more important tracks presenting themselves only once or twice throughout the game’s nearly 30+ hour runtime. Tracks such as the gorgeously surreal vibraphone led hymn “Patalouda” and the acoustic seaside serenade of “Delphinas” never overstay their welcome despite the hefty amount of airplay they get. “He Called Hex” is the most memorable of these songs, its angelic vocals drowning in the rising sea of violins and violas as a simple piano chimes in the back. The song presents a triumphant sense of salvation within the bleakest hole of “Fata Morgana”’s Earth. Yet, its the songs that are only played once or twice that leave the greatest impressions. Clocking in at a whooping twelve minutes, “Michel’s Theme” begins somber, quiet, and powerless. French chattering and sullen strings maintain a steady pace until the strings gradually build in volume and size. Then the pace increases, an uncharacteristic drum speeds up the pace of the strings. They intertwine, confidence oozing out of each pizz. The song is grand and cathartic, an anthem of the game’s major themes that are perfectly spelled out through sound alone.
I long to be able to experience a soundtrack again that is as tremendous as what the five composers accomplished within this record. Not since I entered the abrasively delicate world of Ed Harrison’s
Neotokyo have I been so enthralled with a game soundtrack. Even without context of the game’s deep analysis on themes such as the human condition, what it means to love another, and the perspectives of memory; the soundtrack stands alone as a marvelous encapsulation of every single word the game wishes to imprint on its players.
