In a game with so much great music, it's the silence that lets it stick out.
Sometimes in art, focus on negative space is crucial to outline that of the positive
one.
Meaning, it's the space between that makes the image shine
In the case of Undertale we hear lots of great tracks and brilliantly composed works, hidden
meanings to songs, repeated motifs, new arrangements, cryptic meanings, all of which are within
the music, which is part of what makes it [Undertale] a great game.
Furthermore, a common theme is established throughout the music in Undertale.
But this is something not just unique to this game.
It happens across many other games and movies and many other media as well.
That is, this common that reappears throughout the game, or the other piece of media, with
varying remixes or reprises.
This is something that's happened through much of Musical History.
On that let me make a brief comparison between Undertale, and the Miyazaki films.
In Howl's Moving Castle, we hear the main theme carried throughout the entirety of the
film.
In quiet and dramatic parts or fast and slow parts.
With varying reprises.
It creates a very powerful movie.
In a way, Undertale does this too, with a calm introduction, a playful select screen,
fast-paced reprises et cetera.
I could go on and on about this as you can tell I'm sure.
But one thing that sticks out to me, more than that, is the silence.
In Spirited Away Miyazaki uses calm, idle scenes to let the viewer breathe.
He claims that this is essential; as the constant barrage of action may be too much noise for
the viewer's head.
Undertale follows suit and takes some of these methods used as well.
For example, let's look at this beauty of a scene as Frisk gazes upon a dimly lit castle
in the distance, almost seeming to be floating.
As the gems twinkle throughout the Underground like stars in the sky.
The backlit gorge gives Frisk and his Monster Friend a pitch-black silhouette.
And you get to take it all in with nothing but the muffled sound of rain.
For each person I'm sure rain brings a different kind of feeling, but here, in this context,
I feel like I can breathe.
Especially when it's in the part of the game where Frisk is literally in the midst of a
hot pursuit courtesy of Undyne.
By taking steps away from using music briefly, Undertale creates the perfect sense of calm
before the storm.
Of course this ambient scene isn't completely silent, due to the rain in part.
Let's take a look at some scenes where there are truly no other noises.
Throughout the game there are various vacuums of silence that provide unique moods for the
situations they're best suited for like building tension around a fight, creating a mysterious
feeling, or reflecting on a big moment.
What amazes me most is how this silence can convey such a range of emotions, just within
one game.
Through this variety comes that duality that Undertale uses so well.
Killing and sparing, moving parts and goofy parts, warming moments and creepy moments,
and a whole slew of experiences to go through.
I go in more detail about this juxtaposition in Undertale in the last Undertale video I
did here.
But in summary, we discover how well Undertale balances its dual themes, kind of like weights
on a scale.
I venture to say that silence in many parts does the same thing.
When the game goes quiet to let a character speak, or in preparation of walking to the
next location even, it causes the player to hone in on the game.
In both the genocide and the pacifist route, silence is used variably with different meanings.
But the game still retains its solidarity across all game modes.
That's how the silence ties this game together.
After going through the tutorial and being cared for by the mother figure of the game,
Torial, Frisk is greeted by silence as he makes his long trek into the rest of the underground.
The door he opens is an important one, as there's certainly no going back from there.
This silence creates a sense of anticipation.
After heeding Torial's warning and saying goodbye, regardless of choice you know you're
headed in for a long journey.
The contents of which you're not certain, save for the fact it will be difficult.
All that angst is built up in here, in this frame of silence.
With the pacifist route this intro has more of a hopeful tinge to it.
Whereas the genocide one provides a sense of dread.
As the game progresses forward, this angst once again culminates into another important
hallway.
This time it's just before walking into the palace garden.
Thanks to the silence at hand, Frisk is given the opportunity to reflect on the journey
he had.
For a pacifist this empty hallway fills you with hope for what is to come next.
Knowing you've made friends along the way and helped the monsters of the Underground,
Frisk can look back at his journey before one last final step and smile.
In a genocide route, instead, all that heartless, remorseless killing and thoughtless violence
only leads to a true sense of downfall that overshadows any hope for redemption.
All is lost, and the only feeling that fills Frisk head is mindless chaos.
I wager that if this hallway was filled with music instead of silence, the player wouldn't
be able to feel that mood that's really been building throughout the whole game.
Whether it be that sense of dread that comes with the genocide route, or that eager, happy
anticipation in the pacifist one, it would be lost.
That's why this silence is so important.
Like a versatile tool, it can perform many functions.
Whether it be filling a sense of mystery or a sense of tension.
Or, just letting the player relax for a second.