You leave the solar system and, before you even regain control of your vessel, the song explodes.
Intense breakbeats and ethereal synthesizers soon accompanied by acid bass, synthetic pizzicato strings and twinkling digital chimes. The entire screen is filled with a deep, blood red; the same red that envelops the Earth, the force field which serves as a prison here serves to protect your ship. The space around your craft is filled with bursts and streaks of light, what are they? Are they stars whizzing past as you speed by? Are they other ships coming in and out of warp? Are they projectiles volleyed back and forth between the combatants in the war against the Ur-Quan? It stimulates the imagination in a way that more literal or realistic representations couldn't.
Nearly a minute in, after a brief lull, the main theme is re-introduced, the lead instrument slightly detuned, the rest of the instruments now accompanying it; it still signifies danger, but with newfound confidence, adventure. The drums leave the mix completely, bells come in, their sustained reverb buried deep in phaser or chorus. The song has taken on a more meditative quality. The sounds beneath the music have transformed from high pitched whirling wisps to deep growls. Nearly two and half minutes into the song the main theme once again repeats, but now transposed (I don't have a good enough ear to tell if its a key change or different mode or what), it now takes on a sense of pure heroism.
But you won't hear that the first time you hear this song. If you attempt to leave the Sol system before completing the introductory quest, you'll find yourself with insufficient fuel to get anywhere, and nowhere near enough firepower or maneuverability to survive a fight; additionally it seems like at this point in the game the encounter rate is cranked up specifically to discourage you from skipping the opening missions. Even once you can fabricate parts and train crew for your ship, you'll inevitably be making short enough trips at first that you'll only hear the more "dangerous" parts of the song. Even once you upgrade your fuel tanks and start making longer voyages, encounters with enemies will interrupt the music and make the song play from the beginning before you have time to hear the later segments. The player's relationship with the song develops as they progress through the game in what I think is genuinely one of the most magical fusions of gameplay, narrative, and audiovisual artwork in any video game, ever.
I'm utterly shocked that this game isn't more widely known. I myself only found it by chance: a podcast I listen to recommended Ars Technica's "War Stories" interview with one of the developers of Crash Bandicoot, and I decided to watch all of the interviews in the series. Most of these interviews are about technical aspects of the game, challenges faced during development, personal histories of the developers, or behind-the-scenes of the business end of game production. The interview with Paul Reiche and Fred Ford, founders of Toys For Bob, is just them gushing for two hours about a game I had never once heard of beforehand. I look the game up to find that despite its seeming obscurity, it was once often considered in "best game of all time" lists, is widely praised by high profile games industry personnel, and has been free and open source for over twenty years.
This game has the sprawling map and incredible dialogue of a game like Fallout, but is so much more intuitive that it could be played with an NES controller without issue. It has some of the best writing, most memorable characters, and most entertaining voice acting I've ever seen in games; I genuinely cannot even imagine how mind blowing this game must have been in 1994 when this version was released on 3DO. It has one of the best intro sequences of any game from this era, I was instantly hooked. I feel like I've barely dipped my toes into it, its scope is so ridiculous; knowing what happens as time passes in the game I'm genuinely not sure if I could ever beat it without following a walkthrough, but even so I'd say it's worth starting out by exploring blindly and learning about the world. Some day I'm going to actually hunker down and try and squeeze this gem for all it's worth, and it's going to absolutely own my life. Even now, with what relatively few hours I've spent with it, Star Control 2: The Ur-Quan Masters has already had an immense impact on how I view games.
Intense breakbeats and ethereal synthesizers soon accompanied by acid bass, synthetic pizzicato strings and twinkling digital chimes. The entire screen is filled with a deep, blood red; the same red that envelops the Earth, the force field which serves as a prison here serves to protect your ship. The space around your craft is filled with bursts and streaks of light, what are they? Are they stars whizzing past as you speed by? Are they other ships coming in and out of warp? Are they projectiles volleyed back and forth between the combatants in the war against the Ur-Quan? It stimulates the imagination in a way that more literal or realistic representations couldn't.
Nearly a minute in, after a brief lull, the main theme is re-introduced, the lead instrument slightly detuned, the rest of the instruments now accompanying it; it still signifies danger, but with newfound confidence, adventure. The drums leave the mix completely, bells come in, their sustained reverb buried deep in phaser or chorus. The song has taken on a more meditative quality. The sounds beneath the music have transformed from high pitched whirling wisps to deep growls. Nearly two and half minutes into the song the main theme once again repeats, but now transposed (I don't have a good enough ear to tell if its a key change or different mode or what), it now takes on a sense of pure heroism.
But you won't hear that the first time you hear this song. If you attempt to leave the Sol system before completing the introductory quest, you'll find yourself with insufficient fuel to get anywhere, and nowhere near enough firepower or maneuverability to survive a fight; additionally it seems like at this point in the game the encounter rate is cranked up specifically to discourage you from skipping the opening missions. Even once you can fabricate parts and train crew for your ship, you'll inevitably be making short enough trips at first that you'll only hear the more "dangerous" parts of the song. Even once you upgrade your fuel tanks and start making longer voyages, encounters with enemies will interrupt the music and make the song play from the beginning before you have time to hear the later segments. The player's relationship with the song develops as they progress through the game in what I think is genuinely one of the most magical fusions of gameplay, narrative, and audiovisual artwork in any video game, ever.
I'm utterly shocked that this game isn't more widely known. I myself only found it by chance: a podcast I listen to recommended Ars Technica's "War Stories" interview with one of the developers of Crash Bandicoot, and I decided to watch all of the interviews in the series. Most of these interviews are about technical aspects of the game, challenges faced during development, personal histories of the developers, or behind-the-scenes of the business end of game production. The interview with Paul Reiche and Fred Ford, founders of Toys For Bob, is just them gushing for two hours about a game I had never once heard of beforehand. I look the game up to find that despite its seeming obscurity, it was once often considered in "best game of all time" lists, is widely praised by high profile games industry personnel, and has been free and open source for over twenty years.
This game has the sprawling map and incredible dialogue of a game like Fallout, but is so much more intuitive that it could be played with an NES controller without issue. It has some of the best writing, most memorable characters, and most entertaining voice acting I've ever seen in games; I genuinely cannot even imagine how mind blowing this game must have been in 1994 when this version was released on 3DO. It has one of the best intro sequences of any game from this era, I was instantly hooked. I feel like I've barely dipped my toes into it, its scope is so ridiculous; knowing what happens as time passes in the game I'm genuinely not sure if I could ever beat it without following a walkthrough, but even so I'd say it's worth starting out by exploring blindly and learning about the world. Some day I'm going to actually hunker down and try and squeeze this gem for all it's worth, and it's going to absolutely own my life. Even now, with what relatively few hours I've spent with it, Star Control 2: The Ur-Quan Masters has already had an immense impact on how I view games.