Indie Game of the Year for 2018, Celeste stepped into the video game world and promptly cemented itself as a modern classic. It had no real competition for GOTY in the indie sphere at the time of its release, and so everyone was dialed in on this charming, harrowing adventure of a girl as she climbs a mountain. A couple of them, actually, though some are less material than others.
Without spoiling too much of this superb gaming experience, the main character of Celeste, Madeline, struggles throughout the game with a couple different aspects of anxiety and a foggy opinion of herself. Upon the magical mountain of Celeste, her negative feelings manifest as a dark, brash reflection of herself. Over the course of her climb, Madeline faces this dark side to embrace her greatest potential, and prove to herself that she can accomplish a meaningful goal, in spite of herself.
Read the Kotaku article below to see how Celeste not only chronicles Madeline’s misadventure through the dark swamp of anxiety, but the creator’s experience with mental illness, as well.
**I will refrain from using game-specific terminology in this post, as it would break the flow of the article.**
Presea Combatir is one of, if not the greatest example of a tragic character in the beloved Tales franchise of video games. In a gambit to make herself useful to her struggling family after her sister falls ill, she subjects herself to a malevolent experiment, wherein she gains increased strength at the cost of her emotional and physical growth being permanently subdued. As such, she turns into a shell of the child she once was, and by the time she is found in the game, sixteen full years of this repression have cost her much of her humanity.
Though technically twenty-eight, Presea appears as a twelve-year-old girl, with her emotional and social maturity being practically non-existent. She is in a routine of soulless labor, with no cognitive attachment or awareness for the world around her. Even when her father dies, she doesn’t notice or care, allowing him to rot in his bed. Her freakish nature and questionable history have turned her into a pariah within her village, completely ostracized from peers and adults.
When at last the main cast of Tales of Symphonia is able to recover part of Presea’s humanity, much of the damage cannot be undone. Yet, she begins to age normally again, and slowly starts to form new connections with the world. She remains blunt and distant to communication with others, and does not understand social protocols. This is occasionally endearing, but mostly it’s sad. It becomes quickly apparent that her lack of emotions was something resembling a boon, for now that they were coming in full force, they were almost all negative. She grieves the years she lost, the family she doesn’t have anymore, and suffers without a clear purpose in the world. At the core of her reservation and ongoing melancholy is the tantalizing perception that, even with her new friends, she is ultimately still alone in this world. It is the bulk of her character arc from this point until the end of the game that she must realize, through the actions of her companions, that she is loved and has a home. It might not be the home she originally wanted or remembers, but it is something worth cherishing and protecting.
Protection is Presea’s strong suit, even as a combat asset within the game. Her size and cute appearance are deceptive. With her aforementioned inhuman fortitude, she can shrug off harm that would critically wound her friends. As such, she operates best as a “tank” for the team. That is, she offers herself as the one who, when everyone else must play it safe, walks into challenges head-on. She has faced hardship and hurt and damage, physically and emotionally, and they have strengthened her in a way her companions don’t immediately recognize. So, she’s the tank in every sense. The one who endures injury, but never relents.
Presea is my favorite character from Tales of Symphonia. Her tragedy aside, she is a wonderful, quirky little girl, fascinated by animal paws and woefully ignorant to the innocent flirtations of others. She is lost in the world, but possesses a durability in spite of her loneliness that things will somehow get better. It’s these things that I want to see more in myself, and hope to inspire in others.
Dedicated to making your anime addiction worse, the AAA podcast has stood the test of time in my gallery of weekly podcasts. Now a regular listener for nearly four years, I’ve seen a handful of hosts come and go, each contributing their own flavor to what the podcast would eventually become in the present. In my opinion, the series is as strong as its ever been. As one of the longest-running and most popular anime podcasts in the world, they’ve had plenty of time to come up with fun, interesting segments to engage the hosts and audience, as well as streamline the format into something digestible and concise.
Each of the hosts goes by a Japanese moniker (because, you know, weeaboo trash and such). This isn’t to preserve secrecy as much as it’s just fun. Mitsuki (also known as the Anime Pope within their thriving Discord channel), is the founder, moderator, and most consistent host presence on the podcast. He is the “old man” of the group, which is as endearing as it is occasionally annoying. He’s still a very fun person, and could probably bench press me into the ceiling. Kazuo is the resident goofball. They’re all different brands of goof, but if they were stuck in a horror movie, well, he’d die first. Mandi (that’s both her real name and host name) is the manga enthusiast and essayist of the group. She goes into the greatest detail in her reviews and lines of reasoning. Enzo rounds them out (also his real name) as the one who is arguably the most sentimental of the group (maybe) and thus engages listeners most on an emotional level. Mandi and Enzo are the two newest hosts, both starting at the same time about a year and a half ago, and each of them have personalized segments in “Mandi’s Manga Minute” (you can probably guess what that’s about) and “Enzo-Senpai’s Notice Me Corner” which has Enzo reading out a listener-submitted positive-report about things that are going well in their lives and requests for continued support. Both of them are some of my favorite segments in the podcast’s history.
The best segment is obviously “Does Mitsuki’s Mom Know?” But that only shows up every once in a while, which is fine, otherwise the novelty would wear off.
Every episode generally consists of a topic of discussion, submitted by the fan community, a weekly anime review, two news breaks, two pieces of trivia (in which you can win actual prizes), and otherwise a ton of natural shenanigans. There will occasionally be special interview episodes or guest hosts or any number of other variations, but what I listed above is the most common formula for their episodes, and it works like a charm. The AAA podcast is one of only two podcasts that I listen to as soon as it comes out. I can be in the middle of an episode of tv, a song, another podcast, whatever, and I’ll immediately stop and change to them. It is a consistent, reliable comfort in the growing bleakness of our modern landscape. Maybe I’m just getting old and jaded. Either way, it’s an aspect of the podcast I can’t overstate enough. They (and the Discord) make you feel welcome and at peace, for just a little while.
As for where to start, I’d suggest you listen to episode 466, wherein the entire cast is present to discuss their Spring 2019 anime selections to review. It is a recent example of an episode that holds all of the charm that defines this podcast’s popularity, and if you’re new, would be a good place to pick up the show. If you end up liking the hosts (which I suspect most people would), you can entertain retroactively exploring their older episodes and reviews at your discretion. Or, you can become a patron, as I have, and enjoy the bonus episodes of their After Parties and Hobby Addicts episodes, which are both a blast (THEY’RE AT THE BEGINNING OF A NEW D&D CAMPAIGN). There’s another tier for their Hentai episodes, which I suspect are hilarious in their own right, but that’s not my speed. To each their own.
If you like podcasts and you like anime, you can’t sleep on the AAA podcast. It offers the best of both worlds, quality and geekdom. The personalities are brilliant, the show is meticulously crafted, and the fun times show no sign of stopping.
I recently came across an article from the Bebop Attic (linked below) which explores the topsy-turvy, sometimes painful discourse of friendship that is the main cast of Cowboy Bebop. Being a long-time fan of Watanabe’s work (and CB, in particular), I am always delighted when I find a new angle on this classic anime. For all their casual disregard and generally laid-back, easy-going nature, it’s important to remember that Spike, Faye, and Jet are, at the end of the day, hardly more than active shells of the people they used to be. They are walking walls, keeping everyone around them at arms-reach, yet inexplicably can’t pull themselves apart from their meandering life together exploring the cosmos.
Take a look at the original article for more detail. And if you haven’t seen Cowboy Bebop yet, or it’s been a while since you last explored space with the crew of the Bebop, I encourage you to rectify that as soon as you have a chance. It ages like your favorite wine.
Published by Mythos & Ink, “Area of Effect: Wisdom from Geek Culture” checked a lot of my boxes. Using pop culture and the wider community of geekdom as a vehicle, the writers within challenge the quagmire of life with subtle excellence. Regardless of what media is most endearing to you—whether it cinema, novels, anime, video games, etc.—there is bound to be at least a handful of insightful deductions that make you think, or personal tales that make you feel.
I know a small handful of the collaborators involved in this book. I worked with most of them, in one way or another, during my time as a writer and editor at Geeks Under Grace. But Area of Effect afforded me an opportunity to learn new things about each of them, both in their opinions on various stories, as well as formative events that shaped their lives. I think what was most impressive about this compilation, however, was the consistency of ‘oh‘ moments I had. I was challenged to think in new ways (I’d never considered what it must have been like to be an average citizen in the sociopolitical climate of the Fire Nation when Sozen decided to siege the world), and I’ve never understood the appeal of Buffy the Vampire Slayer until two or three different chapters addressed aspects of its story. Now it’s at the forefront of my list (along with Joss Whedon’s Dollhouse).
There’s something for every geek in this series of articles and essays. Do you like anime? Plenty of that within these pages. Marvel films? There are at least four topics around those. Video games? Galore. Lord of the Rings? But of course.
I think it takes a unique frame of mind to connect the fiction we read to the lives that play out before us every day, and something even greater to learn from that connection. If you appreciate good dialogue on the merits of your favorite pieces of fiction, I implore you to pick up this book, available on Amazon in both Kindle and paperback versions. I suspect you will not be disappointed.
E3 2018 revealed a feast of new video games that we should expect to see throughout this year. One game that stood out to many people, myself included, was the sadly serene Sea of Solitude, developed by Jo-Mei Games and published by Electronic Arts. This waterscape misadventure, characterized by an aesthetic of over-saturated colors, braces itself against a narrative exploring loneliness. It is also Electronic Arts’ first major foray into supporting an indie story that focuses on mental health. Their support cannot be understated.
Laura Parker of the New York Times talks about Sea of Solitude in further detail below, as well as other video games that dare to explore the complicated waters of mental and emotional health in video game storytelling.
This is the fifth in a five-part series to be released daily, in which I unpack my favorite instrumental songs in the history of, well, ever. Narrowing this list down was obviously difficult. There were four “waves” needed to thin out the contestants from my library of thousands, and once we got below one-hundred it was like pulling teeth.
Yet, I stayed true to my original goal of fifty, for my own sake, and not compromise that number. I wanted to know for myself what I believed were my favorites among the gallery of songs I so dearly love. This following list is the conclusion of those struggles. They are not in order. Simply getting a pool of them was hard enough. I do wish to leave with my sanity.
Many are favored because of their execution and style, while others, because of a particular attachment or association they have with my personal life. With each entry will be a short blurb, explaining why it belongs. And for a disclaimer: if I couldn’t understand what language they were singing in, I considered the vocals as their own independent instruments, and thus things like Gregorian chants do not disqualify songs from being “instrumentals.”
Enjoy.
#41 – “Atonement” by Masashi Hamauzu
My all-time favorite song, in-and-outside of instrumental music, accounting for all genres and all phases over the course of my nearly twenty-seven years of life. In the beginning, I didn’t think much more of it than “mmm, what a bittersweet sound,” but with time and repetition, it wiggled its way into the soft, squishy parts of my heart, and nested there. I am not going to boast of its technical or emotional merits. Just please do me the favor of listening to it a couple of times, and if you find it not capturing you right away, return later. It is not for all moments of life, but imperative to a specific few which matter. I hope you are fortunate enough to find this song in one of those times.
#42 – “Soul Battles” by Ryan Taubert
Similar to “Time” from Inception, “Soul Battles” darkly shines with a heavy, swaying sadness. It is the sound of somebody who is being overcome. I’m going to waylay my usual blurb for these entries. Just let the music carry you away to the trenches.
#43 – “Kakariko Village” by Koji Kondo (performed by the Legend of Zelda 25th Anniversary Symphony)
This famous track from The Legend of Zelda practically oozes good feelings. I feel safe when I hear this song. I feel home. This song precludes the adventure, showcasing the mystified daydreams of a hero-to-be, before he picks up the blade. “Kakariko Village” is quaint, just like the village itself in every incarnation of Zelda. I’m not the world’s biggest Zelda fan, but Link to the Past was one of the first games I ever played, and I would sometimes just leave my character sitting in the middle of the village to hear the soothing overture. They brought perspective and optimism whenever I was feeling lost or uncertain in my direction. It still makes me feel that way. And for a song to be able to do that is nothing short of phenomenal.
#44 – “Kindred Spirits” by REEN
I think the image in the above video does a pretty good job of capturing my feelings towards this song. “Kindred Spirits” is gingerly, romantically tragic. An honest love, cracked down the middle by external powers. Romeo and Juliet, except believable, and actually sad. If I walked in on the scene depicted in that video, in that lighting…yeah, I can see how this song would fit.
#45 – “Friends” by Yoko Kanno
I have no idea what this show is about. I’ve never seen Wolf’s Rain, but I discovered its soundtrack around the time I was reading a series called Bakuman. A major theme in Bakuman is that of friendship and camaraderie, to which this song appropriately fits. Yet, despite the earnestness of the track, it’s very clearly a song of bittersweet quality. I suspect it originally plays in Wolf’s Rain to the scene of a friend dying, or having already passed and being reflected upon. At any rate, that piano lacerates my strength. I am made somber beneath its gentle might, just in time to be done in by the violins which follow after. We approach the conclusion with a dirge of aching woodwinds, playing notes so low, they’re practically whispers. Whispers between friends. A promise to never forget one another.
#46 – “Ascending into Naught” by Demetori
(Despite the picture above, this is not from an anime…just a video game with anime aesthetics.)
It was difficult to narrow down one favorite from the Japanese metal band Demetori, but, gun to my head, I’d have to go with “Ascending Into Naught.” This song has been on my workout playlists since my friend introduced me to it in college. The colliding harmony of layered guitars—some riding power chords, the others flying through high notes— synchronize perfectly with the piano to create what sounds to me like a grade-A, final boss video game track. You can even tell when the final boss would go on its last leg. Near the 5:48 mark, a slaughtering drum-line breaks through a tasteful lull in the energy of the song, ushering it to new heights, in which the guitars and piano/synth run a gauntlet of increased stress and speed and rioting awesomeness.
This song is crazy, it’s epic, and it’s so much fun. Just like everything Demetori does.
#47 – “Beyond” by Lorne Balfe and Hans Zimmer
When people describe something which is “epic,” they are referring to scope and magnitude. If something is epic, it is of great consequence, usually world-altering in nature, involving hundreds, if not thousands, millions, or billions of moving pieces.
If I were to describe “Beyond” in any two words, it would be as the spiritual incarnation of “epic sorrow.” This is the dirge which follows a long, hard-fought battle, and things did not turn out well. As the siren-like strings slowly crescendo, they build into a drop which plunges your heart into your feet. This song is the sound of hope dying, as all the world weeps. It, and the game it comes from (Beyond: Two Souls) were the original seed from which my own story, “Doubting Puppet,” was founded.
#48 – “Between Worlds” by Roger Subirana Mata
I’m sorry the world is not what it should be—that the crack in your chest has held on despite all these years of trying to make it go away. I’m sorry people are not always patient, not always kind. I’m sorry that sometimes neither am I. I’m sorry you’ve lost friends, in however way that might have happened. Tragedy is not always necessary in losing someone important. I’m sorry your heart doesn’t always feel big enough or strong enough. I’m sorry your mind doesn’t always feel as though it can persist through the gales of stress which blow your way.
I’m sorry people don’t understand, can’t understand, or won’t understand. Please forgive them. Please forgive yourself, because you know sometimes it’s hard for you to understand, too. That’s not your fault, it’s just the way of things. We do the best with what we have, and as long as you are doing all you can, no fault can be justly held against you.
#49 – “Farewell, Life” by Arn Andersson & Nights Amore
One of the saddest songs I know. Dangerously sad. It should not be consumed without caution, and definitely not over an extended period of time. Beneath the heartbreaking rhythm, a seduction is taking place, a parasitic spirit of hurt which will slowly drain you of vitality if you’re not careful, and lead you into thoughts of obliteration, however hypothetical. That said, it is beautiful. The ocean in a grey morning, not a stir to be seen, despite the cool gust tossing your hair. Froth on the rocks. A quiet harbor town.
“Farewell, Life,” is a deathbed anthem. It’s what plays in the miasma of the spiritual plane when one of our own passes over, eyes clicking shut for the last time. Songs like this are important. They help us remember death isn’t necessarily bad or scary. But it is significant, and should never be forgotten.
#50 – “Super Saiyan 3” by Bruce Faulconer
80’s Hair-metal ain’t got nothin’ on this. ^^^
There is a special place in my nerdy heart for many of the Super Saiyan themes. This one is arguably my favorite (there was much internal debating). Where the theme from Goku’s original ascension carried with it the sound of a legend being born—mystical and slow—and Gohan’s theme from reaching Super Saiyan 2 showed him surpass his father—chilling and violent—the Super Saiyan 3 Theme is something else entirely. In Goku’s own meme-ified words, it is “to go even further beyond.”
This is the song of the ultimate hero, one who has found the final ceiling of their own potential, and somehow managed to push through it. When the heroes of Dragon Ball Z first reached Super Saiyan, they were quick to realize there was something beyond it, a perfected form. Super Saiyan 2 was achieved: the natural end to their evolution. But Goku, he invented a level beyond that, something he and only he had ever done.
Super Saiyan 3 was an impossibility, creating one’s own reality from just being that awesome. While the transformation in-series had the least emotional build-up and impact, it was no doubt memorable for its sheer confidence. This song helped craft that feeling, make it whole, and cemented Goku, for better or worse, as one of the coolest shonen protagonists of all time. So it would be fitting to make his ascension to SS3 the bookend to this immense list.
Thank you for reading. I hope you found at least one song you enjoyed.
This is the fourth in a five-part series to be released daily, in which I unpack my favorite instrumental songs in the history of, well, ever. Narrowing this list down was obviously difficult. There were four “waves” needed to thin out the contestants from my library of thousands, and once we got below one-hundred it was like pulling teeth.
Yet, I stayed true to my original goal of fifty, for my own sake, and not compromise that number. I wanted to know for myself what I believed were my favorites among the gallery of songs I so dearly love. This following list is the conclusion of those struggles. They are not in order. Simply getting a pool of them was hard enough. I do wish to leave with my sanity.
Many are favored because of their execution and style, while others, because of a particular attachment or association they have with my personal life. With each entry will be a short blurb, explaining why it belongs. And for a disclaimer: if I couldn’t understand what language they were singing in, I considered the vocals as their own independent instruments, and thus things like Gregorian chants do not disqualify songs from being “instrumentals.”
Enjoy.
#31 – “The Huge Tree in the Tsukamori Forest” by Joe Hisaishi
This song could straight-up break me out of a coma. This is the song which holds the most history of any on this list. My Neighbor Totoro was my first exposure to anime, played by my babysitter Patty when I was four years old. She said I asked for it constantly. Thus my love of anime was born.
When I hear The Huge Tree, I am brought to imagine the beautiful antiquity of rural Japan, in which My Neighbor Totoro is set. Specifically, I feel the essence of late afternoon, bottled up and hung next to wind chimes. Sunlight calms down as the late afternoon sets in. The world, in spite all its troubles, is for a moment at peace.
And when those chimes or whatever they are start up…there is nothing more nostalgic. That sound has the compounded interest of twenty-two years of memories behind it. Nothing can compare.
#32 – “Otherworld” by Nobuo Uematsu and the Black Mages
Almost objectively the worst song on this list, my appreciation for “Otherworld,” the heavy-metal anthem of Final Fantasy X, relies on a story, and the evidence that it invokes one of the strongest biological reactions of any song I know. Nearly all of my love for this track comes from the first twenty seconds, and that requires some context. I’d first heard it long before it became one of my favorites, when the game first released in my elementary school years and I watched my friend Joey play it. From that young moment, I’d come to associate that song with “Sin,” the immense and unstoppable monster which plagues the world of FFX. When this song is first introduced, it is to the visage of Sin as it obliterates an entire city. Your city.
For years I believed this song only played at the beginning of the game, as I’d never owned the game myself or completed it. But in college I had the opportunity to play FFX to conclusion. Once I reached the end, to the climax against the heart of Sin—my in-game father—I prepared for the worst. I knew from word of mouth by multiple friends who’d gone before me that Sin’s core was an incredibly intimidating boss. I got ready for the typical fare we see in Final Fantasy last boss soundtracks…
But when Sin (aka “Braska’s Final Aeon,” technically) reached its hand over the lip of the arena which was to be the place of the final battle, and slammed it down, that guitar from “Otherworld” kicked in, and I found myself instinctively leaning away from the screen as a massive, flaming demonoid creature heaved itself slowly into the frame, almost too large to be contained by the arena itself. As it glared down at my party, now seeming woefully unprepared, I remembered the words of my friends who warned me of its might. I did not know this song played again for the final boss. I thought it only played at the beginning. Years and years of listening to this song rushed at me all at once as I looked upon the true face of whom it belonged, the core of Sin, a creature of terrible menace.
I’ve never had such an animal response to a video game before. To physically put space between myself and an enemy which could not technically hurt me. I felt intimidation rolling off this moment as if I’d suddenly been caught out by a bear. It was amazing.
If anybody were to tell me that, of the songs in my top 50, this was their least favorite, I would not blame them. It’s special for me independent of its own quality.
#33 – “Drowning in this Fog of Yours” by Cicada
If you haven’t noticed, I am a never-ending sucker for the contrite piano. When it’s part of an ensemble cast, alongside a guitar and strings which share its vision, then we have a classic case of a sum being greater than its parts. “Drowning in this Fog of Yours” has a little something for both sides of the emotional soul. Some melancholy, some tranquility, some encouragement, some love. Such a perfect morning song. A perfect reading song. A perfect living song. There’s nothing special about it musically, nor personally. I just can’t seem to shake its hold on me. It makes my heart smile. I want more of it, as soon as it ends.
Songs like these are my favorite because they are so good at doing what traditional, vocal-driven songs cannot: they speak to you. I am not ignorant to the irony of that statement, nor do I believe lyrics can’t convey amazing things. But there’s an undeniable transparency and individuality with these sorts of tracks. There’s no words to misinterpret, no specific story behind the narrative. It’s just feelings, made semi-material, a gateway into another person. The music is much more honest than we could ever be with our faulted tongues.
#34 – “Death Image” by Yoshihisa Hirano
This song is morbidly simple. It is the swaying footsteps of the man on his last dredges of vitality, ready to surrender to his own weight. The way the strings make drawn, flat notes provide a perfect foundation for the eventual raindrop sound of the piano, as well as the organ and slight percussion which give a sort of ticking clock sound. If I must capture this word in a scene, it is that of somebody taking their final steps as the world melts away around them. It’s a good deathbed song, extracted from the anime “Death Note,” something which says “yes, it’s over.”
I once listened to this song on repeat for an entire 8-hour overnight shift.
#35 – “Creator of Worlds” by Epic Score (I think?)
Three things: drums, ominous choir, and the angriest violins on this side of existence. That’s 90% of this song, and it’s one of the most intense things ever. Objectively. I’m allowed to say that, I’m the writer.
It really does give an impression while you inhale the music of a divine act of terraforming taking place somewhere in the universe. Can’t you feel it? Tectonic plates, freshly birthed from the magma of a fledgling planet, sliding together, mashing into mountains and earthquakes and underwater ravines. The oceans stir into place, a devastation contained only by gravity, drowning tens of thousands of miles in unstoppable nature. Storms of lightning war with themselves as layers of atmosphere begin to form around the soft meat of the globe, tender from its chaos. And then, somewhere in this miasma of ancient power, life rapidly expands beyond its natural elements. I can imagine a body coming together just as easily. Muscle sinews stretching and reaching for each other, forming elastic bridges between the still solidifying frame of bone and cartilage which will eventually have the power to raise itself up. Eyes, for a moment mush, round out into something which is firm, and then complex, swallowing the world in the birth of perception.
This is the song, as the name implies, of a great god-hand sewing together the many fabrics of the universe.
#36 – “Fantasia alla Marcia” by Yoko Shimomura
There is something intrinsically important about this song. It’s hard to quite land a finger on. I mean, it’s obviously beautiful and dramatic, but that’s typical fare for Kingdom Hearts. What I think sets this song apart, aside from it having like seven different melodies, is the nebulous sense of inheritance it provides. As if I’m being entrusted with the responsibility to refine and pass along virtues of worth, in the hopes of breeding new caretakers of this strange truth: that humanity, in spite of ourselves, can imagine, and wonder, and create. We make art, and music, and those things are worth maintaining. You inherit a sense of protection towards that, such an insane and honest and worthwhile campaign.
#37 – “Goodbye” by Jared Emerson-Johnson
This is the saddest song from the saddest game I’ve ever played, and if I’m not careful, it can ruin my entire day. I make this one of my favorite songs almost ironically, as it encapsulates an experience which plunged me into a thick, four day depression after exposure. What I said is dramatic, yes, but not without cause. To unpack all the reasoning behind that now would take too long, but in short, I associate this song intrinsically with a sense of unforgivable failure. And as crudely categorized as that is, I love this song because, despite its simplicity and sorrowful grade, anything which makes me feel so deeply deserves to be considered a favorite.
That game broke me a little.
Sorry, Clementine.
#38 – “Into the Wild Chapter II” by Axl Rosenberg
A slow, but glorious burn. You need to stick with this one for a bit, because the first couple minutes are preemptive—steadily building in strength and tone. The true character of ItWC2 resurrects around the 1:45 second mark. Then opens the anthem to the long journey, an adventure to find an unknown something, a place not yet seen. Being lost, and finding. When I hear this track, I imagine a grand voyage or pilgrimage, either alone or with companions. It is the quintessential self-discovery arc every person and character must endure to find themselves.
#39 – “Little Fugue in G Minor” by Johann Sebastian Bach
For full-disclosure, I care less about the more traditional renditions of Bach’s famous “Little Fugue in G Minor,” and prefer it in several recent incarnations. For example, this excellent metal take on the classic. Or this one from a game called Catherine which I’ve never played but has a great soundtrack.
But I obviously have one which stands out, as it’s the one posted above. The version which plays to the final adversary of Mega Man Legends, one of my favorite games.
Bach’s masterpiece has such a delicious, aristocratic horror, as if dancing at a masquerade on a night filled with secrets, lies, and betrayal. There’s a scope of history about the song, nestled deep into the public psyche. The almost universal familiarity of it somehow emphasizes the dread it creates. A shadow hiding in our minds, wearing a mask, polite until your guard has fallen.
#40 – “Unfinished Battle” by Yoko Shimomura
Shimomura has now shown up just as many times as Sawano.
For some reason this song was only played once through the entire 80-hour game of Xenoblade Chronicles, which is practically a sin., because it’s one of the most raw soundtracks in recent memory. It’s hard to point at any one part of the song and tell you “that, that is what makes it amazing.” It is simply a perfectly rounded battle fanfare, with chasing strings running the course of its length, and a mounting synth-piano which explodes into prominence at the end. As the name implies, it encourages a tremendous sense of pushing through adversity towards a final resolution. An excellent workout song, “Unfinished Battle” has a home in many, many of my playlists.
This is the second in a five-part series to be released daily, in which I unpack my favorite instrumental songs in the history of, well, ever. Narrowing this list down was obviously difficult. There were four “waves” needed to thin out the contestants from my library of thousands, and once we got below one-hundred it was like pulling teeth.
Yet, I stayed true to my original goal of fifty, for my own sake, and not compromise that number. I wanted to know for myself what I believed were my favorites among the gallery of songs I so dearly love. This following list is the conclusion of those struggles. They are not in order. Simply getting a pool of them was hard enough. I do wish to leave with my sanity.
Many are favored because of their execution and style, while others, because of a particular attachment or association they have with my personal life. With each entry will be a short blurb, explaining why it belongs. And for a disclaimer: if I couldn’t understand what language they were singing in, I considered the vocals as their own independent instruments, and thus things like Gregorian chants do not disqualify songs from being “instrumentals.”
Enjoy.
#11 – “Tsuisou” by Ooshima Michiru
While I hold the standing opinion that Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood has the better overall soundtrack, the original series has this single trump card over it. “Tsuisou” is one of the most romantically bucolic songs I can think of. This is a “we are on a long road” sort of adventure, which understands life without the need for questions. The slow progression from one landmark to the next, enjoying the fundamental nature of the journey along the way. It also makes me feel nostalgic for a childhood unfulfilled, in a fantastically alternate version of our own world. Listen, and depart.
#12 – “Dragon Rises” by Hiroyuki Sawano
(I told you to get used to that name. This won’t be the last time Sawano shows up on the list.)
Listen to this song. Now listen again, except imagine it as the theme of some really intense medical drama. Kinda fits, doesn’t it? It is from a medical drama. Thanks, Japan. The violins sound like an alarm, or an ambulance siren. The shouting which fades-in half way through the song represents the tense degrees of emergency we so often see in those kinds of settings, with medical professionals relaying information in strict, punctual accuracy. I can’t help but see an epic montage a la Death Note (unrelated series, but if you’re familiar, you know what I mean) in which a team is prepping and executing surgery. The pace is made breakneck by its quick-cutting back and forth between images: filling a syringe, creating an incision, asking for varied medical tools, wiping sweat off the brow. It’s just so, so awesome. And just to clarify, this isn’t from an anime. Japan makes their own television series too, you know.
#13 – “The Burning Bush” by Hans Zimmer
As you might have gathered from the title, this song is a direct reference to the God of the Bible, who spoke to Moses through a bush which had been set aflame, yet did not burn. More specifically, this is from the epic and wonderfully-crafted animated film, The Prince of Egypt. Let this song empty your mind, and top you off with wonder. In my mind, this is what God is supposed to sound like, if humanity could do our best of capturing such an unfathomable essence. This is God without the inevitable bullcrap we inject into our perceptions of him. This is God, unhindered by us. It moves, it captures, it rises. And then it explodes into overpowering, all-consuming might after about two minutes, very briefly, just enough for you to know this is God, an entity of insurmountable power, before it pulls back into something tender and welcoming: a father, resting a reassuring hand on your head when you feel you’ve gone too far. A father in armor, inviting your enemies who feel they’ve bested you, to take a crack at him instead.
Perhaps the first video game character to ever inspire fear and a personal grudge in my heart, Vile of the Mega Man X franchise has a theme befitting his lethality. Never before had I encountered an enemy in a video game which was literally unbeatable—who was supposed to defeat you. I remember the first time I faced him, and the frustration I felt. He’s the very first boss, and he’s ruthless in how he toys with you, bludgeoning you while you sit there struggling, because this is so unfair, what am I supposed to do? It was David and Goliath, but as it would be without divine intervention.
Eventually salvation comes in the form of your comrade and savior, Zero. Zero is awesome, and way stronger than you are, but even he only manages to force Vile into casual retreat. Later, once Mega Man (you) has overcome many new obstacles and augmented yourself in a dozen different ways, you hunt down Vile, who has by this point battled and enslaved Zero. You fly in, ready to set the record straight.
And he’s still too powerful. You can’t even dent his impenetrable armor. Nothing has changed, you haven’t gotten stronger at all, and your best isn’t good enough. In a final, desperate gambit, Zero sacrifices himself in an attempt to obliterate Vile once and for all. This, too, fails. Zero’s sacrifice does shed Vile’s second layer of shielding and armor, but this is mostly just an inconvenience. It will have to be enough. Vile is no longer invincible. He’s still stronger, better, faster, and more confident in his ability than you are, but Zero has given you a chance. It is one of the hardest battles in the game, and insanely rewarding when, after an inevitable try-fail cycle where you suffer defeat at his hands over and over, you finally put him in the ground.
A demon clad in metal, Vile’s personality and corruption are captured in the beast-like guitar riffs which scream and slaughter their way through his song. They carry the same distortion found in most Mega Man X music, but still manage to be uniquely recognizable as belonging to his character. It is a simple track, and does not last long before looping, but my god if it doesn’t do a good job of punctuating just how traitorous and superior Vile is seen to be.
#15 – “Osiris” by Valentin Wiest
In my head canon, I call this the “wedding song,” which might not be immediately apparent upon listening. Let’s put it this way, in an ideal and highly unlikely world, this is the song which would play when my eventual bride walks down the aisle. More specifically, it would play out like this:
We’d have to use an edited cut, otherwise it’d be too long, but the wedding party would start to approach the stage, slowly (so we can hear the song of course, as that’s clearly the most important part), around 2:40. As they fill in the altar and all appropriate individuals take their seats, we allow the song to bleed into the violins and chants for a little bit. Anticipation builds. The walls begin to whisper their excitement. Hushed conversation floats beneath the orchestra.
Then it happens. Four minutes in, everybody stands to welcome the bride, and boom, 4:05, she makes her way down the aisle. The world bends around her and time surrenders.
I cannot tell you how many times I’ve played this out in my mind. I get chills just thinking about it.
#16 – “Lit” by Kensuki Ushio
“I’m deaf.”
While I enjoyed the original version of this song and its function within the film A Silent Voice, I am particularly enthralled by this piano rendition of the song by Youtube creator PianoPrinceofAnime. PianoPrince takes the inherent beauty and simplicity of the original track and transfuses it with an extra layer of emotion and majesty. The added cello gave the final product some much needed synergy which was missing from the original track. While this cover stands on its own, I admit part of my admiration is rooted in the source material, which inspired me to start learning some American Sign Language, as well as piano, as a result of its influence.
#17 – “Gourmet Race” by Jun Ishikawa & Dan Miyakawa
No matter its incarnation (of which I love many), “Gourmet Race” never fails to get the heart pumping. In its original context, Kirby is in a mighty dash against King Dedede through a treacherous obstacle course. The original song maintains a lot of the retro charm of the 90’s, and the sound often associated with Kirby games in general. In its inevitable hundreds of covers and remixes which have since spawned from its popularity, I have several favorites, especially the rendition found in Super Smash Bros. Brawl, an a capella, a dubstep, and an epic metal version. I love this song for its duality of adrenaline and pop-fantastical qualities (the latter being aforementioned characteristic of Kirby soundtracks). “Gourmet Race” could be appropriately labelled a “light-hearted battle to the death,” being both incredibly fierce, yet undeniably upbeat in style.
#18 – “Kiss the Rain” by Yiruma
If somebody asked me to present a song which captured the essence of ‘healing,’ I’d be hard-pressed to choose anything other than Yiruma’s masterful “Kiss the Rain.” It generates its own imagery and has its own beating heart. The human soul is rarely captured so purely, least of all by a single piano. That piano strips away your walls, your infection, leaving you vulnerable and clean, ready to start again.
#19 – “Sadness & Sorrow” by Toshiro Masuda
Oh my god, the feels this song has made me feel. I distinctly remember the first time I heard “Sadness & Sorrow.” I was watching the first arc of Naruto, which I’d recorded on VHS in 7th grade. When the deepest narrative I’d seen in my young life to that point took the form of Teen Titans, this song, and the scene of Sasuke ostensibly dying in Naruto’s arms…well, it took my standards to a new level. This song forged that scene into something excellent, and gave birth to my love for that entire series, which now stands atop my pantheon of pop-culture familiarities as the reigning king.
This is that addicting kind of sadness. It is works like this which made me crave to learn piano.
#20 – “You Say Run/Jet Set Run” by Yuki Hayashi
*Deep breath*
BOOOOOIIIIIIII THIS SONG.
The national motto of Spain is “Plus Ultra” or “further beyond.” We can give more, do more, be more—our limitations are what we make of them. “You Say Run” is a song I’ve probably heard no less than 500 times in the last year and a half since first discovery, and my god does it go plus ultra. It is the most memorable track from the sensational new anime My Hero Academia, and has played no small hand in its meteoric growth in the industry. Championed by one of my favorite new composers (the same brilliant mind as behind the Haikyuu! soundtrack, which isn’t on this top 50 list, killing my soul a little), this song is a whirlwind of heroic energy. Seriously, do you feel like a single thing in the entire universe could stand in your way?
Didn’t think so. You could probably flip a tractor-trailer. Go try it. I’ll wait.
Not only is this song noteworthy in its own stature, but the musical director of My Hero Academia uses it marvelously to punctuate scenes and moments with the precision and lethality of a sniper rifle. As soon as that echoing note fades in, you know something insane is about to go down, and with each successive hearing of the song, it builds momentum from the last, until you inevitably have it on repeat. You want it as the background of your life.
I recently wrote an article over in my millings with Geeks Under Grace which has received above-par attention. It’s an exposition on how I define “dark” in terms of media, with examples for different brands of this word spanning several mediums, as well as which facets of those series I find appealing. I cannot copy and paste it here, so I ask that, should some pocket of your curiosity long to see why I think dark media is more appealing than its lighter-hearted brethren, you follow this little link down below and take a gander.
God bless, love your heart, and always remember to smile.
Dark Blue Owls 