Why can't I get Mario's
theme song out of my head?
[MUSIC PLAYING]
Every so often music from
games gets stuck in my head.
You probably know how this goes.
For no apparent
reason I'll catch
myself humming in a strangely
familiar key, only for it
to dawn on me that
it's from an old game
that I played as a kid.
This will invariably be the
"Castle Theme" from Super Mario
Brothers, the Russian folk
diddy from Tetris, or that song
that I definitely did not cry
over Saria in the Lost Woods.
The music is so whimsical
and catchy it's ridiculous.
And it's not just a
gamer's thing either.
Classic game tunes have crossed
over the pop culture divide.
Super Mario alone has been
covered like a billion times
on YouTube.
And pop artists sample
game music all of the time.
There's a nod to Golden Axe
from Jay-Z, Wiz Khalifa,
Raptor notes from
Chrono Trigger.
And Skrillex remixed
Sonic the Hedgehog 2,
which might explain the
commonality of hair.
In fact, if you
get a chance, you
should check out this
five part documentary
on the effect of
Japanese game tunes
on contemporary
electronic music.
Check it out.
It's pretty cool.
But all the fanfare
for old game music
is pretty weird if
you think about it.
By now these games are 20 to
30 years past their prime,
and the technology used to make
them is, frankly, a little bit
primitive.
The NES for instance,
only had enough memory
to play three single
note instruments at once,
and two of those instruments
had to be the exact same.
It was like trying to
compose a symphony with two
flutes and a slide whistle.
Since then game soundtracks
have grown in complexity
and arguably beauty.
Journey was nominated
for a Grammy.
And Grand Theft
Auto V was scored
by Edgar Froese, The Alchemist,
Woody Jackson, and Oh No.
But it's these primitive
jingles from decades
ago that always bubble up
from the depths of my brain.
Why can't I get this
freaking Mario theme song out
of my head?
[HUMMING]
Well, there are two
principal reasons.
One of them is pretty apparent.
And the other is a
little bit trickier.
One explanation is that you,
me, and the rest of the world
are experiencing a huge
collective nostalgia trip.
As we've previously
explained, nostalgia
is very powerful stuff.
And the music is
exceptional at evoking it.
When we're young our
brains are undergoing
rapid neurological
development, according
to this article on Slate, and
it bonds very well to music.
So when we heard the
"Hyrule Field Theme"
over and over again during
summer vacation as a kid,
it was chiseling out a neural
connection in our mind.
This is Your Brain
on Music author
Daniel Levitin says that
musical tastes become
a badge of identity
as we enter our teens.
It helps us define who we are.
And game devs are
very savvy to this,
repeating and remixing
heartfelt strings
in never ending sequels.
So when we hear the
Hyrule Theme as adults,
perhaps in a tweaked arrangement
for a new Zelda game,
it causes strong memories,
and the deepest of feels.
A version of
"Prelude" for example
has appeared in almost
every single Final Fantasy,
and there's 15 of them.
It seems we're hardwired to
feel this kind of whimsy.
But that can't be the
only reason, can it?
I mean, there are
plenty of games
I played as a kid who's music
doesn't get me warm and fuzzy
inside at all.
I can't even remember what
Ninja Gaiden sounds like.
So why else could these 8 and
16-bit musical compositions
be so memorable?
Maybe it's because of how
certain games were designed.
Today most game music is
made by placing a recording
on top of the game,
like a movie soundtrack.
But in older games it
wasn't like that at all.
The music had to be programmed
into the game itself.
According to John Irwin,
author of the book Super Mario
Brothers 2, the NES's sound came
from a unique audio programming
unit inside the microprocessor
that powered the system.
So the composer's had to
write the music in code.
This leads me to Koji Kondo.
He's the man responsible
for all the iconic music
from Mario and Zelda.
If you don't know him, you
definitely know his work.
While he was creating the
soundtrack for Super Mario
Brothers, he realized
that the game's characters
moved in sync with the tempo
of the NES's processor.
So he matched the score
to that tempo too.
The result was music to
our childlike fingers,
and tiny ears.
Mario, and the bad guys,
and the coin blocks,
were all bopping in chorus to
the same, da-da-da-da-da da.
Dunh.
So how did he do it?
When we spoke to music theorist
Andrew Schartmann, author
of Koji Kondo's
Super Mario Brothers,
he told us that
many aspects of play
aligned one to one
with the music.
Of course, the most
satisfying is Mario's jump.
The--
[MARIO JUMP SOUND]
Sound effect when Mario takes
off lasts for exactly one beat.
Then there's the--
[FIREBALL BLIP]
Of Mario's fireball.
It always hits on the
eighth note of the tempo
every single time.
Some levels of the
game correspond
with the music like clockwork.
One area you see this is
in the underwater world.
The music's tempo
corresponds exactly
with the flapping fins
of the Cheep Cheeps,
and also the
flashing coin counter
at the top of the screen.
In fact, moving
musically has been
a hidden hallmark of the
Mario franchise ever since.
In Super Mario
World for example,
Kondo designed a
percussion track
to kick in whenever you
mounted Yoshi, an idea that
resurfaced in Mario Sunshine.
As the produce composer
David Kanaga has said,
Mario feels like a
musical instrument.
Fortunately it's not just Mario.
Kondo's musical inklings live on
in ambitious game music today.
For instance, in how Red
Dead Redemption seamlessly
infuses its Western soundtrack
based on situations dialed up
randomly by the game, or how
Dead Space has a fear engine,
which affects sound design
and its composition.
Or how SoundSelf
takes your voice
and generates a strange
musical creature.
And this is
important, because it
shows how game design
benefits from rubbing
elbows with other fields, be
it film, or space exploration,
or arts and crafts, or music.
Perhaps the reason we remember
these old game memories
so vividly is because the sound
design and the game design
are brilliantly intertwined.
The music is an expression of
great game design, which makes
it sound that much sweeter.
So what do you think?
Why does old video
game music get
stuck in our heads, and
new video game music
maybe not so much?
Hash it out in the comments.
And if you liked what you
saw, please subscribe.
A big thanks to authors
Andrew Schartmann and John
Irwin for their help
with this episode.
Be sure to check
out their books.
We'll link to them
in the description.
I'll see you next week.
[COIN BLOCK SOUND]
Last week we talked
about some of the problems
when games rely too much
on the power fantasy.
Let's see what you had to say.
First things first, if you
live in the Phoenix area,
you might have seen the
announcement that myself,
as well as Joe from
It's OK to be Smart
and Mike from Idea
Channel are going
to be at Phoenix ComicCon.
We're going to do a meet
up this coming Friday,
as well as play an on
stage version of D&D, which
should be a lot of fun
this coming Saturday.
We'll link to all the
information in the description.
But if you're around, please
come on out and say hello.
Some of you were a little
bit unsure about what
I meant by the
term power fantasy,
which is 100% my
fault. So I'll try
to give a little bit of
a clarification here.
The question at hand
was whether or not
power fantasy is a visual
depiction of power,
or a mechanic.
Because these two things
often go hand in hand.
So a power fantasy, as we
talk about in the episode,
is when the game gives
you a false impression
that you're getting better at
it, when actually the game is
just making it easier
for you to play.
So Street Fighter or
Guitar Hero, for example,
wouldn't count as
power fantasies,
because although on the
surface those games appear
to be powerful, brawny
dudes fighting it out,
or '80s guitar
gods rocking away,
those games actually
require true mastery
at their core in
order to progress.
So we did use Guitar
Hero as an illustration,
and I think that might have
caused some of the confusion.
But we didn't mean to
indict that franchise.
More specifically I'm talking
about a lot of problems
that RPGs, for example, use, in
terms of giving you the ability
to level up over time,
and that basically
lowers the bar to make it
easier for you to play.
So I hope that makes
it a little bit easier
for you to understand.
Velocity Eleven takes
issue with my critique
of leveling systems, arguing
that many leveling systems
require strategy and planning.
And that very well may be
true, but to be more specific
I'm not talking about
all leveling systems,
saying that they're
always bad all the time.
For instance, leveling in
Dark Souls was about role play
and evolving your
character towards the way
that you wanted
to play the game.
Although the game obviously
remained very, very difficult.
And Etrian Odyssey is
about very carefully
building a party with skills
that you need to survive.
But especially as RPG
elements have infiltrated
many other types of
games we see plenty
of instances, many of which I
outlined in the episode, where
leveling up doesn't necessarily
add anything to the game play,
and exists exclusively,
solely just
to make you feel more powerful.
For example, Call of
Duty's prestiging system.
It doesn't
necessarily add a lot.
It's just about having a bigger
number next to your name.
Or Far Cry 3, which used the
whole concept of leveling
as this sort of critique
of, I don't know, I
guess millennial
laziness or something.
But anyway, you shoot a
bore and you get a tattoo.
I mean, if that's not
leveling up laziness,
I don't know what is.
SonOfAKing King likes the
existing power ratio in games,
because SonOfAKing, like
many people in their '30s,
works a full time job
that's really stressful.
And coming home and
blowing dudes away
is a nice respite from
your nine to five.
It gives you control over
a portion of your life
that may not exist during
your nine to five existence.
First of all, I'm
not saying that there
should be no power
fantasy games,
those shouldn't
exist whatsoever.
I very much enjoy Wolfenstein.
Obviously it was very different
from my day to day existence,
so I really enjoyed
it in that respect.
But I would also say if
what you're looking for
is some form of relaxation,
that there are other games that
might fit the bill
as well that don't
have to engage in the
same type power fantasies.
If you look at game
companies games,
for example, those are
great as a form, I think,
of stress relief, or the ability
to sort of relax and just sort
of exist in a particular world.
Or a game like
Proteus, same deal.
So I understand where
you're coming from.
I'm totally sympathetic.
So thank you for
letting us know.
Joseph Allison brings
up the excellent point,
which is that narratively
power fantasies become really
problematic, because let's
say you spent the last two
weeks, two years, whatever
it might be, fighting it out
in the trenches of World War
I, it seems highly unlikely
that you would come out of that
experience stronger, fitter,
faster, better than you
were going in as opposed
to completely demoralized,
exhausted, tired, et cetera, et
cetera.
So you find these
narrative stories
in games that have to sort of
explain how someone comes out
of this experience being
better than they were before,
which doesn't necessarily
make a lot of sense.
And last but not
least, I just want
to say thank you all so much.
I just got this in
the mail from YouTube
for crossing the
100,000 subscriber mark.
I know that happened
a couple weeks ago,
but I just got the
award right now.
So I want to say thank you
all so much for supporting me
over a course of
over 100 episodes,
for almost two years,
which is crazy.
Crazy to think about it.
It's all paying off.
Thank you all so much
for all your support.
And please keep on watching.
I'll be sure to get a chain so
I can hang this around my neck
and wear it out to dinner.
My wife'll love that.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
