If the most significant (positive) quality of Circle of the Moon is its mindless glee (as I put it), then the most significant quality of Harmony of Dissonance is this obsession and respect with which it was carved. It's all about the details. They weave something larger and more impressive than the game itself, as decent as it might be strictly for its own sake.
Harmony is a treat for the series historian (like me, or like Koji Igarashi); it ties up a bunch of loose ends, both in terms of the arching storyline and the various game styles and systems throughout the series. When I play this game, the game I play is a game dripping with the kind of geeked-out exhaustive love for its subject matter and its medium that I can relate to. Harmony is not exactly original, but it's not exactly meant to be; it's a smart ode to what has been. It fills in the cracks. It is meant to tie everything together, before Igarashi considers himself free to go off in his own direction.
So here's Igarashi's new direction.
If Harmony of Dissonance is an embodiment of the past, then Aria of Sorrow is a step toward the future. (In a figurative sense, yes. Literally, also yes; the game takes place in 2035.) It is the flip side of the card, as you might say. The second half of Igarashi's plan. The two games even use the same engine. Basically.
Not only is the engine similar, but Aria follows pretty closely to the Metroid-inspired mold of the other recent Castlevanias. Still, even within the same boundaries, Aria manages to find its own way.
If you remember, I mentioned a while ago that this is the first Castlevania game in a while to be itself, as such, rather than... merely a Castlevania game, as such. I want to explain that it does this by severing as many ties as it can with the past -- but, no. That's the wrong image. Too destructive. It's... more like Aria simply has closed the book. The old story is over. No need to keep quoting. Rather, Aria works on memory and intuition in order to build its own world out of what it knows.
In order to explain these changes, we necessarily are introduced to a new type of a hero: Soma Cruz. More than just the most feminine bishonen yet spawned from Ayami Kojima's lithe-yet-possibly-perverted fingers, Soma is a potential star. His skills hold an endless potential for future exploitation. (As the forthcoming doujinshi will doubtlessly demonstrate.) His new overtly Dracula-free world is a fascinating one, rife with possibility.[4]
In case you've not been keeping up, yes; Dracula's gone. For good, this time. No fooling. Sort of. Now the plot is of a somewhat more personal nature, dealing with Soma's search for answers -- about his situation, about himself, and about these strange people he keeps encountering.
You see -- Soma has this strange, hitherto-repressed power. It's a dark power, that allows him to absorb the souls of his enemies. (If you're creative, you already can probably figure out whence that power comes. It's all right; the plot is obvious, but its only real purpose is to set up Soma's character and world.)
Soma is -- his powers are -- what makes this game so much fun. They ask for a pretty big overhaul of the underlying game system, and a subtle change in focus. In exchange for the typical suite of secondary weapons that we've all come to know (those being more of the Belmont providence), Soma has his souls. When the player kills a skeleton, there's a certain chance that Soma will absorb the skeleton's soul, empowering him with the ability to throw bones. Other enemies will give him other powers, both active and passive. Every enemy in the game has a strength worth investigating.
Importantly, Soma saves these diverse powers. The player may switch amongst them at will -- as in Simon's Quest, for the NES. Also important is the idea that these secondary powers are both a replacement for the Belmont weapons and a drain on Soma's magic reserves. This means that the old heart and magic meters have been fused; hearts simply restore magic. It's all... so intuitive, now.
With only a few tweaks, Aria pretty much eliminates all of the frustrations of earlier Castlevanias. The focus is now entirely upon gameplay -- upon wringing every last drop of content out of the game. Heck, I've played through it twice now. I've found pretty much everything there is to find. Yet, I continue to play. It's just too enjoyable not to.
So. Aria is all about freedom; a freedom that no Belmont can provide. A freedom from the past, as it were. A sense of respectful independence.
My question, then, is thus: for such a fresh take on the Castlevania universe, why does the music sound like a flat, watered-down imitation of the themes we've been hearing for the last fifteen years? Why doesn't Soma have his own new, flexible, vibrant motive? Why isn't the soundtrack fresh and inspiring, to help push forward the idea that this is a new generation, a new era of Castlevania? Why doesn't it amplify and support the game's heavy sense of possibility?
Why doesn't it fit? Why doesn't it help? Why does it just sit there? What is it doing? Sleeping?
Michiru Yamane said in a recent interview that she's using more classical instruments in the score to Lament of Innocence, because -- given the game's time period -- the guitar stylings from Symphony of the Night would be a bit of a silly anachronism.[5] They wouldn't fit the game's tone.[6]
This is all nice, but how come it that she didn't pay the same kind of attention to Aria of Sorrow? This game is set a full thousand years after Lament of Innocence. What, no Bauhaus? I'm being fatuous, yes -- and yet, Soma is a kid of his generation. Shouldn't it be interesting to try to project what Malice Mizer might sound like, thirty years from now?
I realize that the level decoration and monster designs don't do much in terms of reflecting the game's time period -- but then, the game still does take place in Castlevania proper. That is to say: they wouldn't, would they. Or at least it makes sense that they wouldn't. Logistically speaking, Dracula's castle is a bit of a time capsule. (Not that logic matters much in a game with a storyline like Aria's.)
Music, by contrast, isn't tied down in this manner. Its whole purpose is to illustrate the insides of characters, places, and situations; the parts which we can't as readily see. We've got a 21st century teenager running through an 11th century castle. Modernity pushing itself upon an ancient foundation. Technology versus... horse. What a conflict! What potential! Where is it?!
Now, perhaps I'm nitpicking -- but given what I see, I don't get the feeling that particularly Yamane tried in this instance. At all. We know from past experience that she's competent. So why the snore-job? I've read that Igarashi pretty much gives her free reign, within certain limitations. Even if Igarashi wanted the music toned down a notch in comparison to Harmony -- as probably was the case -- you'd think that Yamane could have pressed a little harder. If she had wanted to.
Come to think of it, the bonus music that she contributed to Harmony of Dissonance wasn't all that amazing, either. The more I dwell, the more displeased I become with Ms. Yamane as of late. Perhaps I'd best stop while she's ahead.
I'll give her another shot, with Lament of Innocence -- this time, with a less limited palette. We'll see how she does when she's allowed to sprawl more. But I've got my eye on her. Castlevania is too good a series to allow one of the key design crew to slack off.
You hear that, Yamane? I'm watching you!
To everyone else concerned with the project: Good job, yes. More, please. Read my footnotes, if you will.
[Next: Obligatory score stuff!!1!]
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