Interactive Corruption: Atonal Freedom and Narrative in Video Games by  Blaire Ziegenhagel   A dissertation accepted and approved in partial ful"llment of the   requirements for the degree of  Doctor of Philosophy in Music Theory   Dissertation Committee:  Jack Boss, Chair  Stephen Rodgers, Core Member  Abigail Fine, Core Member  Alisa Freedman, Institutional Representative  Julianne Grasso, Additional Core Member University of Oregon  Spring 2025 © 2025 Blaire Ziegenhagel 2 DISSERTATION ABSTRACT Blaire Ziegenhagel Doctor of Philosophy in Music Theory Title: Interactive Corruption: Atonal Freedom and Narrative in Video Games Engagement in rigorous pitch analysis of dissonant media music is remarkably infrequent; I attribute this reluctance to the (perfectly valid) reason of horri"c music often being di#cult to transcribe and/or using non-discrete pitches. As a result, such music is often viewed through an a$ective or topical lens. I acknowledge that both of these factors are important to the listening experience; as such, I view atonality (and the analysis thereof) as a sort of topic in and of itself. When a dissonant piece does utilize discrete pitches, however, analyzing its pitch content with greater speci"city than has been historically applied o$ers rich information about a game's story, its world, and its characters. My choice to use video game music is purposeful: ludomusicology is a "eld that is, perhaps more than any other discipline, chie%y concerned with media immersion. My study, then, adds a pitch- narrative dimension to ludomusicological analyses of horror and horror-adjacent music. In this dissertation, I apply relatively basic post-tonal analytical techniques to video game music tracks that may be considered “atonal” or otherwise dissonant. Following Gassi (2019), I contend that composers set signi"cant atonal relationships using other musical parameters to increase their audibility to the audience, even if subconsciously. In doing so, I elucidate otherwise latent narrative information that arises from the relationships discovered in those analyses. 3 In total, I do not only conclude that post-tonal analysis can reveal dormant con%ict narratives in video game music. I also argue that video game music tells us a great deal about post-tonal analysis at large, that when it is applied to a medium that necessitates audience input, it inherently %irts with an interpretive dimension beyond merely pitch and narrative: other musical parameters such as rhythm, timbre, and dynamics become analogous to active agents in both the subconscious and perceivable realization of narrative. 4 CURRICULUM VITAE NAME OF AUTHOR: Blaire Ziegenhagel GRADUATE AND UNDERGRADUATE SCHOOLS ATTENDED: University of Oregon, Eugene University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC University of Washington, Seattle DEGREES AWARDED: Doctor of Philosophy, Music Theory, 2025, University of Oregon Master of Arts, Music Theory, 2021, University of British Columbia Bachelor of Arts, Music Theory & Music History, 2018, University of Washington AREAS OF SPECIAL INTEREST: Ludomusicology PROFESSIONAL EXPERIENCE: Graduate Teaching Employee, University of Oregon, 2021–2025 Cello Performance Coach, SYSO Summer Music, 2022–2025 Teaching Assistant, University of British Columbia, 2019–2021 Composer, Arranger, and Administrative Assistant, Seattle Youth Symphony, 2016– 5 GRANTS, AWARDS, AND HONORS: Outstanding Graduate Scholar in Music Theory, University of Oregon, School of Music and Dance, 2025. Meritorious Achievement Award, Twelfth Night, Kennedy Center American College Theater Festival (Region 7), 2023. PUBLICATIONS: Ziegenhagel, Blaire. Forthcoming (2026). "Exploring the Uncanny: Musical “Corruption” in Horror Video Games." Music Theory Spectrum. 6 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I present here what can only be understatedly referred to as a wholly incomplete list of kind, intelligent, and encouraging people. The mentorship from I have received Professors Jack Boss, Stephen Rodgers, and Drew Nobile cannot be overstated. From each, my academic self has flourished in a distinct way: from Jack Boss's tutelage, I have become a significantly more thorough analyst; from Stephen Rodgers's humanity, I am now a more compassionate and transparent pedagogue; and from Drew Nobile's firm kindness, I am currently the best writer and communicator I have ever been. I am indebted to these three professors' invaluable contributions to my growth not only as an academic, but an incredulous and curious person. I have met a host of incredible people during my time in Eugene; however, I give a significant portion of my love to Kasey Lynch and Kaitlyn Clawson-Cannestra. Without their friendship—a mix of unbridled laughter and empathetic genuineness—my time here would have been unspeakably duller. Thank you for all of the racquets swung and charades prompts danced. The support from my family has also been of the utmost importance. My father, mother, sister, and grandmother have served as a set of familiar faces with whom I am always eager to share smiles. It is no secret that the journey to this destination was pocked with dark waves and even darker clouds; however, their presence has always served as a loving and stalwart reminder of my ship's course. Although they may never see this message, the people that compose the online communities into which I have assimilated have kept me sane and human throughout this intensely tumultuous part of my life. From Nat, to Nick, to Matt, to Pippy, to Jacob, to Ryan, and everyone in between: thank you for 7 allowing me to be myself, encouraging me to pursue this silly hobby of mine, and reminding me that I am more than just my skills or my abilities. 8 To the woman in the dark mirror, we will be together soon. 9 TABLE OF CONTENTS I. INTRODUCTION 18 ........................................................................................................... "Condemned to be Free" 18 ................................................................................................. Ludic Media and Dissonance 22 .......................................................................................... A Necessary Imprecision 28 ................................................................................................. Methodology and Signi"cance 32 ........................................................................................ Dissertation Outline 33 ........................................................................................................ II. ATONALITY AS TOPIC IN VIDEO GAME MUSIC 39 ................................................ Dissonance vs. Atonality 39 ................................................................................................. Topic Theory: Old vs. New 42 ............................................................................................ Ludomusicological Topic and Immersion 48 ..................................................................... Topical Dissonance 55 .......................................................................................................... Atonality as Topic 61 ............................................................................................................ A Brief Aside: Video Game "Music" 66 ............................................................................... III. AFFECT-EFFECT DUALISM IN DISSONANT VGM 68 ............................................ Foreword 68 ........................................................................................................................... Post-Tonal Motive and the Grundgestalt 69 ........................................................................ Audibility 75 ......................................................................................................................... Transformation of a "Non-Literal" Parameter 78 ................................................................ 10 Extensions of Theories on PC Sets and Intervals 78 .................................................... Twelve-Tone Theories 91 ............................................................................................... Contour Theories and Figurae 97 ................................................................................. Transformational Theories 103 ....................................................................................... IV. LUDIC ATONAL NARRATIVE AND MOTIVIC MOTION 111 ............................... Stories as Motion 111 ............................................................................................................. Change as Motion 113 ........................................................................................................... Immersion as Motion 130 ...................................................................................................... V. ANALYSES 132 ....................................................................................................................... The Insidious 1 132 ................................................................................................................ Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky 132 .................................................................. Locating a Musical Protagonist 134 ................................................................................ Undergoing Change 136 ................................................................................................. The A$ect and E$ect of Tonality 142 ............................................................................. Insidious (1) as O$set 145 ............................................................................................... Battle Against Darkrai 148 ............................................................................................... The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks 151 .................................................................................. Obscuring Tonality: 6-z19 and the Opening 152 ........................................................... Section One: "Your Majesty! Your Resurrection is Complete!" 155 .............................. Section Two: "This is It, Link!" 162 ................................................................................. 11 "You Won't Escape This Time, Malladus!" 167 .............................................................. Pokémon Diamond, Pearl, and Platinum 169 ...................................................................... Section One 171 ............................................................................................................... Section Two ………… 176 ................................................................................................... Sections Three and Four 181 ........................................................................................... Working with the Game 185 .................................................................................................. VI. LUDIC ATONAL PEDAGOGY 187 .................................................................................. Canon and Classical 187 ........................................................................................................ Post-Tonal Theory as a Narrative Key 189 ............................................................................. Genre as a Means of Repertoire Diversity 194 ....................................................................... Reevaluating “Battle Against Dusknoir” 197 ....................................................................... Tough Decisions and Tougher Narratives 201 ...................................................................... VII. CONCLUSION 204 ............................................................................................................ APPENDIX: “DEEP WITHIN TEAM GALACTIC HQ,” ELECTRONIC BLIPS BEFORE THE MELODIC GESTURES 209 ............................................................................ BIBLIOGRAPHY 210 ................................................................................................................ 12 LIST OF EXAMPLES Example Page 1. SIGNALIS, Save Room in S-23 Sierpinski 23 ..................................................................... 2. Luigi's Mansion, using the “Poltergust 5000”. 24 ............................................................... 3. Example 3: UB-05, Guzzlord 27 ........................................................................................... 4. Flowey the Flower vs "Photoshop Flowey" ("nal boss form) 29 ......................................... 5a. Lehman, the “triadic tonality space” 40 ............................................................................... 5b. Hypothetical generalized tonality space with the origin (0, 0, 0) acting as common-practice tonality 40 ..................................................................................................... 6. Undertale, "But Nobody Came," only perceivable when sped up 41 ................................. 7. Neumeyer, the “continuum model” 44 ................................................................................ 8. Agawu, “The Universe of Topic” (provisional) 45 .............................................................. 9. Kirby Star Allies, “Holy Road” 58 ....................................................................................... 10. Kirby Star Allies, “Holy Shrine” 59 ..................................................................................... 11. Johnson, “A section of Schoenberg’s Op. 19/4 with… figurae shown” 63 ......................... 12. Super Mario Bros. 3, “Toad's House” 67 .............................................................................. 13. Broman, “Bartók, Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta, I (extended basic idea). 72 .. 14. Maler, “Webern, Op. 11, no. 1, mm. 1-4: motive x… as a “basic idea” 73 ........................... 15. Octopath Traveler II, “Abandoned City” 80 ......................................................................... 13 16. Straus, “Two melodies associated with… the feminized pastoral mode” 81 ....................... 17. Octopath Traveler II, “Dark Night,” reduction 82 ............................................................... 18. Brown, “Inversion in a DIS [continued]” 85 ....................................................................... 19. Straus, “Webern, String Quartet, op. 5, no. 5, mm. 1–6” 87 ................................................. 20. Octopath Traveler II, “Dark Night,” transposition between G minor and F minor. 88 ..... 21. Straus, “Optimal offsets for trichords (as the map of a voice leading space)” 89 ................... 22. The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, '"Boss Battle," "twelve-tone" counterpoint 93 ....... 23. “Abandoned Village” (top) vs. “Boss Battle” (bottom), melodies and CC's. 98 ................ 24. Example 24: Morris, “Contour-reduction analysis of Schoenberg Op. 19 No. 4.” 100 ...... 25. Pokémon Diamond and Pearl (2006), “Battle! Legendary Pokémon,” bassline 101 ............ 26. Pokémon Diamond and Pearl (2006), “Battle! Legendary Pokémon,” opening chords 102 27. Lewin, Figure 3 108 ................................................................................................................. 28. The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks, “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” opening K-net 109 ..... 29. [9E002] conforming to tonal forces (left) and %outing tonal forces (right) 113 .................. 30. Bennett, “G/D as harmonic root” 116 .................................................................................... 31. Bennett, “The H/A4 subtree” 117 ............................................................................................ 32. Pokémon Diamond and Pearl (2006), “Deep Within Team Galactic HQ” 119 .................. 33. “Deep Within Team Galactic HQ,” mock motivic tree 119 ................................................. 34. “Deep Within Team Galactic HQ,” trichordal imbrication 121 .......................................... 35. “Deep Within Team Galactic HQ,” imbricated trichord non-literal motivic tree 122 ........ 14 36. Donaldson, Hero to Three Blind Mice (TBM) transformational network & Hero to TBM further abstracted 124 ......................................................................................................... 37. Pokémon Mystery Dungeon opening motives and themes 125 ............................................. 38. Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Gates to Infinity (2013), “Hiding in the Shadows” 126 .......... 39. “Hiding in the Shadows,” trichordal (top), tetrachordal (middle), and pentachordal (bottom), set streams; M (main themes) vs. H (“Hiding in the Shadows”) 127 ............................. 40. “Battle Against Dusknoir,” introduction 134 ....................................................................... 41. “Battle Against Dusknoir,” B section, bassoon solo and ostinato 136 .................................. 42. “Battle Against Dusknoir,” B section, ostinato voice-leading o$sets 137 ............................. 43. “Battle Against Dusknoir,” C section, motives labeled 139 .................................................. 44. “Battle Against Dusknoir,” C section, motive table 139 ....................................................... 45. “Battle Against Dusknoir,” D section 142 ............................................................................. 46. “Battle Against Dusknoir,” E section 143 .............................................................................. 47. “Battle Against Dusknoir,” C section, timepoints marked 146 ........................................... 48. “Battle Against Dusknoir,” C section, timepoints 1–4, voice-leading o$sets 147 ............... 49. “Battle Against Dusknoir,” C section, timepoints 5–8, voice-leading o$sets. 147 .............. 50. “Battle Against Dusknoir,” C section, timepoints 9–12, voice-leading o$sets 147 ............. 51. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” mm. 1–2 153 ........................................................................ 52. Two embedded instances of 3-11 in 6-z19 153 ...................................................................... 53. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” 3-11 voice-led to 3-9 154 ...................................................... 54. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” ordered pitch classes and PC sets of lead, mm. 7–22 156 .. 15 55. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” melodic fragments 1 and 2, PC intervals labeled 157 ......... 56. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” melodic fragments 1 and 2, interval classes of di$erent melodic timepoints, anomalous non-ic6 starred 158 ................................................................... 57. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” Section 1, timepoints labeled 159 ....................................... 58. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” Section 1, o$set difference between melodic fragments 1 and 2 159 ..................................................................................................................................... 59. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” melodic fragments 1 and 2, gestural transfer between voices 160 ....................................................................................................................................... 60. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” melodic fragments 3 and 4, ic1 intervals with harmonic "ller 161 ......................................................................................................................... 61. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” end of Section 1, transition, V/V–V progression in C minor 162 ....................................................................................................................................... 62. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” two lead fragments with distinguished ordered pitch classes 164 ...................................................................................................................................... 63. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” m. 38, triadic and chromatic juxtaposition before the retransition 165 ............................................................................................................................. 64. “Fighting Cole and Malladus,” mm. 31, 33, 35, 36, and 37; rhythmic accents in bass drum overlaid 166 .......................................................................................................................... 65. Link "ring an Arrow of Light into the Malladus, restrained by Zelda 167 .......................... 66. “Old Chateau,” Section 1, opening gesture 171 .................................................................... 67. “Old Chateau,” Section 1, second gesture 172 ...................................................................... 68. “Old Chateau,” Section 1, third gesture 173 ......................................................................... 69. “Old Chateau,” Section 2, repeated chords 177 ..................................................................... 70. “Old Chateau,” Section 2, eerie melody, mm. 14–20 (note: alto clef, not tenor) 179 ......... 16 71. “Old Chateau,” Section 2, eerie melody, mm. 17–20, chromatic descent 180 ..................... 72. “Old Chateau,” Section 3, piano, mm. 21–26 181 ................................................................ 73. “Old Chateau,” Section 3, piano chord set classes 182 .......................................................... 74. “Old Chateau,” Section 3, melody, chromatic notes circled 183 ......................................... 75. “Old Chateau,” Section 4 184 ............................................................................................... 76. “Old Chateau,” Section 4, hypothetical semitonal Urlinie 184 ............................................ 77. Feedback loop between musical (atonal) stimuli and ludonarrative stimuli 206.................. 17 Chapter I: Introduction …we have neither behind us, nor before us in a luminous realm of values, any means of justi!cation or excuse. — We are left alone, without excuse. That is what I mean when I say that man is condemned to be free. Condemned, because he did not create himself, yet is nevertheless at liberty, and from the moment that he is thrown into this world he is responsible for everything he does. —Jean-Paul Sartre “Condemned to Be Free” When Arnold Schoenberg !rst wrote the words, “emancipation of the dissonance,” he described atonal harmony's ability to paint the same kinds of pictures and convey the same types of emotional ideas—if not the emotions themselves—as tonal music. As audiences became more 1 accustomed to dissonance, its “comprehensibility” only increased; the acceptance of a distinctly atonal 2 style that utilized ingrained tonal conventions permitted similar emotional a"ordances. The extent to 3 which this emancipation could be applied, however, was only speculated upon. Jean-Paul Sartre, in Existentialism is a Human, describes freedom as nothing but a wholly terrifying prospect; indeed, composers since Schoenberg’s time were “condemned to be free,” faced with a staggeringly titanic 4 litany of stylistic options and forced to discern which suited them and their musical projects the best. Without a doubt, timbral extremism, aleatoricism, and piercing dissonances soon followed this declaration. These developments were by no means "incomprehensible," however; on the contrary, the emotive power of these techniques was frequently embraced. Mariusz Kozak writes that Elliott Carter, Schoenberg (1975, 104).1 Schoenberg (1975, 104).2 Schoenberg (1975, 105). 3 Sartre (1946, 5). 4 18 for instance, was captivated by the “severe, harsh sonic e"ects” of Penderecki's Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima. Although Kozak criticizes Carter's use of the word “primitive” as an additional 5 descriptor, both of their fascinations with the piece—as with many others—stems from the 6 acceptance of the most liberal application of Schoenberg's proclamation. Though the burden of freedom was enthusiastically embraced, the extent to which it was employed varied widely. Indeed, in the modern era, compositions utilize a broad spectrum of “dissonances”: the most famous compositions of Einojuhani Rautavaara use largely triadic structures that progress in ways atypical of common-practice tonality. Alfred Schnittke, meanwhile, often utilizes intensely dissonant 7 explorations on single pitches (very often utilizing quarter-tones) and extended, cluster drones primarily for e"ect. The wide variety of choices is used in a similarly broad manner; the result is a 8 stylistic conglomerate that rejects a singular idiomatic de!nition—de!ning all of these as merely "atonal" is undoubtedly and unnecessarily reductive. Many composers, now writing with these new allotments, were nonetheless rooted in recognizable musical con!gurations. Countless composers, for instance, composed "sonatas" and other Kozak (2016, 200); (Carter 1963, 202).5 Kozak (2016, 200). In particular, he notes that the piece's use of formal canon and the sociocultural and 6 technical knowledge required to perform the piece negates an interpretation of either the piece's composition or the sounds therein as “primitive.” See in particular Cantus Arcticus (1972) and the Piano Concerto No. 1 (1969), both of which use Neo-7 Riemannian cycles in two di"erent segments of the orchestra. The !rst movement of Cantus Arcticus, for example, consists of four sections that utilize the same network, transformed down a minor third each time. For more information on Rautavaara's harmonic practices and the development thereof, I recommend consulting Tiikkaja (2019). For examples of each, I o"er the conclusion of the fourth movement of his Piano Quintet (1976) and the 8 !nales of the Concerto Grosso No. 1 (1977) and Concerto for Viola and Orchestra (1985) (amongst others), respectively. 19 music in recognizable forms, maintaining a familiar formal background. George Walker's !rst piano sonata contains clear alignment with some of sonata form's main components, even despite a tonal language that can be neatly organized into non-diatonic referential collections: properly relative "key" 9 centers on C# minor and E major; P and S themes, dominant locks, etc.; and the character of those themes (e.g., a softer, more “feminine” S theme) are all retained. Bartók, too, utilizes familiar formal 10 delineations: mm. 2–9 of his second violin concerto, for instance, can be understood as two Caplinian sentences, with basic ideas, repetitions of those ideas, and continuations. Indeed, freedom was not 11 often employed to its maximal extent, though later composers would obviously challenge even these stylistic normalities. In spite of these appeals towards some sense of idiomatic normalcy, horror media for mass consumption has been one of this larger stylistic freedom's biggest purveyors. David Code writes that the lineage of classic horror !lms—a lineage that includes The Exorcist (1973), Rosemary's Baby (1968), and The Shining (1980)—were noteworthy for their “score[s] that makes abundant use of radically dissonant, sonorously extreme modernist musical languages.” In fact, The Shining's use of pre-12 composed music by Ligeti, Bartók, and Penderecki points to a distinct awareness (or “comprehension”) of this style's emotive capabilities. Furthermore, Code argues that a deep understanding of these Boss (2022). 9 Boss describes the secondary theme as cantabile, perhaps to avoid the somewhat problematic characterization 10 of S as “feminine” that is taken from Marx (1845). Although Hepokoski (1994, 494) calls for these terms to be used on a more individual basis, I use the term here as a recognizable musical reference; as Hepokoski notes, this idea of musical femininity became ubiquitous in musical discourse after its denotation as such by Marx. Broman (2007, 116). 11 Code (2009, 133). 12 20 conventions' potential applications permits narrative insight; in the case of The Shining, he suggests that large pitch distances in Ligeti's Lontano are representative of Danny's ghostly vision. 13 As these compositional techniques became more commonplace in the media sphere, particularly in !lm, they became associated with certain a"ective or narrative markers. This emotive transference is perhaps best represented through juxtapositions of atonality and tonality: Richard Ness recounts, for example, that the idea of noir mystery is communicated by a friction between the relative comprehensibility of tonality and the ‘foreignness’ of atonality. Furthermore, atonality gained the 14 power to "degrade" tonality, in a sense; Ness also notes that the music for the “Merry Widow Murderer” from Shadow of a Doubt (1943) is “subjected to progressively distorted variations that deny tonal resolution.” Notably, this association did not dissipate in the face of freedom's further 15 dissemination; although dissonance may have initially been a useful tool due to its use for an “audience used to a diet of tonal music” in which “atonal music may more easily evoke associations related to alienation or otherness,” atonality seemed to form an identity of its own with its own a"ective properties and associations. Indeed, atonality does not necessitate an association with shock or 16 sadness. Changes in musical style, however, are often considered in analysis; “why use tonality to communicate tragedy,” one may ask, “when a change to atonality communicates it more e"ectively?” This dissertation, as such, examines the cultural role of dissonance in video game music, and utilizes Code (2009, 142). 13 Ness (2008, 56); Flinn (1992, 94). 14 Ness (2008, 57). 15 Gassi (2019, 151). 16 21 atonal analytical methods to elucidate how relationships between atonal pitch sets and successions support ludic settings and their narratives. Ludic Media and Dissonance The sonic freedom a"orded to art music, then funneled into !lmic media, is perpetuated—and perhaps felt with greater potency on account of the ludic immersion—in video games as well. Indeed, Mark Sweeney, writing on the survival-horror game franchise Dead Space, “trace[s] its origins back, via Hollywood, to the aleatory avant-garde music prevalent since the 1950s.” Much like The Shining's 17 musical references, Sweeney writes furthermore that Penderecki, Lutosławski, and Gorecki were composers that Jason Graves (Dead Space's composer) “paid particular attention to.” The artistic 18 result of that sonic freedom was, as Tim Summers writes, “[a] score [that] functions nearly exclusively through ‘global’ musical semiotics and the sheer aural abrasiveness of the timbres.” Critically, 19 Summers notes that Graves's score, “embodies a modernist aesthetic,” an explicit acknowledgement that dissonant freedom often typi!es a musical image as opposed to a style. The extent to which horror is implemented into video games (as is the case with movies, of course) most certainly exists on a continuum; not every instance of horror is as explicit or harsh as those exempli!ed in Dead Space. "Creepy," "ominous," and "spooky" are all terms that are associated with horror themes, but far milder in execution. In SIGNALIS (2022), for example, harsher timbres Sweeney (2017, 172). 17 Sweeney (2017, 174). 18 Summers (2020, 131; emphasis mine). 19 22 23 Example 1: SIGNALIS, Save Room in S-23 Sierpinski & ? & ? 44 44 44 44 Brighter Timbre Sunken Timbre Piano œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙˙ ˙ ∑ Fadd2 p q = c 60 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙˙ ˙˙ ∑ & ? & ? Pno. 3 Œ ‰ jœ ˙œ Jœ œ Jœ wwwwww 3 Œ ..˙̇ œ œ .˙ A m F P p Œ ‰ jœ ˙œ Œ ‰ Jœ œ .œ wwwwww Œ ..˙̇> œ œ .˙ Œ Œ .œ jœ‰ ≈ Rœb ˙ Œ wwwwbb Œ œb > œ œ.˙b œb œ .˙ Ebmaj7(add 9) ß © Score ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) Emb9b13 Emb9b13 and distant chord changes perfectly accompany the decaying, rotting environment of S-23 Sierpinski; crazed, corrupted robots attack the protagonist, LSTR, screaming and doing everything in their power to beat her down. The only respite she has from these environments are the "Save Rooms," which 20 have a horrifyingly ominous and, in reality, not very pacifying red glow from a computer screen (Example 1). In contrast, Luigi's Mansion (2001), while it features a plethora of ghosts in a dark, secluded mansion, the tone is far lighter, as the game is marketed towards children. As Luigi—a perpetually fearful character—travels through the abode, he defeats them with a Ghostbusters-like vacuum called the "Poltergust 5000" (Example 2). All the while, a lighthearted soundtrack—relative to SIGNALIS, at least—accompanies; more tonal elements (i.e., centricity, functional harmony, etc.) are contrasted with timbral e"ects that evoke a more unsettling environment. Despite being a "horror" “Save Room” is a ludically generic term that refers to an area in which the player may save their progress. 20 Oftentimes, players are safe from external harm in such areas. 24 Example 2: Luigi's Mansion, using the “Poltergust 5000” setpiece, its lighter character transforms it from "horri!c" to something more akin to "spooky," the kind of horror one might use with a child celebrating Halloween. This continuum is not only "interludic," so to speak; that is to say, the continuum is not only !t for the soundtracks between di"erent games. It may also be applied "intraludicly": within one game, multiple styles of horror and dissonance may be applied. SIGNALIS is one such example: both subtle and explicit horror are present within the game's soundtrack. This is obviously a common phenomenon: Resident Evil games are also known for having Save Room music that tempers the overall horri!c soundtrack of the rest of the game. More practically, however, a horror game (or any media type) without su$cient musical contrast may result in a less nuanced experience for the player. Little Nightmares II (2023), for example, features many gameplay sequences without music; the sequences with music are typically underscored with a more prototypically horri!c soundtrack. When the deuteragonists, Mono and Six, are being chased by the Hunter, the track “Boots through the Undergrowth” plays in the background, a rhythmically driving and timbrally abrasive piece of music that accompanies the game's !rst major test of the player's ability to control the characters. “Étude for a Minor,” on the other hand, plays as the Teacher—a being with a never-ending smile and a horrifyingly extendable neck—plays the piano. Mono and Six must sneak around her to avoid being detected as she does so. “Étude” is far more tonal and timbrally standard relative to “Boots”; indeed, it exists on a 25 di"erent end of the horror continuum. Subtle timbral alterations and nonstandard chord inversions, however, forbid it from being heard as completely tranquil, suiting the tone of the rest of the game. 21 The ludic e"ect of video game horror is well documented. William Cheng writes, for instance: “One way survival-horror games elicit fear is indeed by destabilizing the player's sense of control. Mark Simmons, the project director for Silent Hill: Origins (2007) and Silent Hill: Shattered Memories (2009), declared in an interview that when one ‘[looks] back at the survival-horror genre, it's pretty clear that the monster scares were built upon awkward controls, clumsy combat, and constantly being kept in a state of low health. Other genres had moved on [by] leaps and bounds, but the survival-horror genre continued to fall back on these unre!ned elements of gameplay because they added to the fear.’” 22 Put simply, horri!c music in a horror setting does not merely underscore scenes or provoke emotions. It a"ects, additionally, how the player interacts with the ludic environment, most recognizably through supporting an environment in which fear is ubiquitous. To truly elicit this fear, though, sound in 23 video games extends beyond the screen into the player's space. By “spatializing” the sound beyond the 24 screen, the virtual world extends into the interactive space of the player; in horror, this e"ect is 25 enhanced by initiating the fear response a player might have to a threat in the real half of that twofold environmental interaction. Most interesting, and the topic on which this dissertation focuses, is when horri!c or dissonant music is inserted into game soundtracks that are otherwise tonal or easygoing. The jarring shift in tone At the time of writing, an article of mine called “Exploring the Uncanny: Musical Corruption in Horror 21 Video Games” has been accepted by Music Theory Spectrum on this very topic. Due to its lack of proper acceptance at this current time, I abstain from citing it properly in this chapter. Cheng (2014, 96). 22 See Perron (2009, 9) for an extended discussion on the speci!c a"ordances of horror video game relative to 23 horror !lms; in particular, he notes that horror video games "extends [the] bodily sensations" that are already induced through the horror !lm. Collins (2013, 47). 24 Collins (2013, 48). 25 26 from one musical style to another instills that fear suddenly and acutely, a response that is distinct from more consistent horror or dissonance. While Little Nightmares II utilizes a musical-horri!c continuum that tends towards horror, games and soundtracks in this “abrupt” category instead dichotomize two entirely di"erent tones. Pokémon Sun and Pokémon Moon (2016), for example, primarily feature tranquil, tonal, or recognizably fun a"ects, even during battle, taking place on the Hawaii-inspired beaches of the Alola region. Upon entering the Ultra Ruin, however, players are treated to a broken, radiated wasteland with nothing but the monstrous being known as Guzzlord consuming its remains (Example 3). The music for the Ultra Ruin consists of nothing but radio static and intermittent, reversed samples of the main theme of one of Alola's islands, indicating that this wasteland was once the bright and colorful region from which the player came. This track, belonging to a child-friendly game such as Pokémon, is perhaps more reminiscent of the Luigi's Mansion style of horror as opposed to the Dead Space kind; however, the sudden jump from happy-go-lucky to disturbing makes the track stand out even more. The freedom of dissonance, thus, contrasts with the otherwise controlled and 27 Example 3: UB-05, Guzzlord understandable—that is to say, "tonal"—temperament of the rest of the soundtrack, provoking a uniquely ludic discomfort in the player and their understanding of the game's world. For the purposes of this dissertation, I prioritize games that are primarily non-horror that suddenly invoke horri!c traits such as fear or suspense. Such a focus is mirrored in the games' music: these soundtracks primarily deemphasize dissonances, save for exceptional instances in which they invoke an extraordinary, marked atonality. As a result, many of the games discussed throughout this work are not from the horror genre; instead its a"ects, timbres, and treatment of pitch are solicited in 26 novel narrative situations. A Necessary Imprecision Analyzing horri!c music like this—be it more prototypical or subtle—has historically been done in terms of a"ect or topic. Indeed, because of the focus on timbral harshness and freedom of pitch treatment, much of the music in this genre “def[ies] transcription with conventional Western notations for duration and pitch.” Performing traditional Western analysis on this kind of music, 27 therefore, is di$cult due to the di$culty in transcribing it. Its “monstrous” status—its lack of 28 comprehensibility—is therefore a musical boon, but an analytical bane; it almost seems as though its inability to be represented in a standard format is itself a component of its e"ectiveness. As such, much of the language used to describe prototypically horri!c music necessitates generalities: Cheng himself For this reason, most of the games chosen for this dissertation are relatively new, permitting a clearer 26 embodied understanding of horror's invocation relative to older games. Cheng (2014, 104).27 Cheng (2014, 104). 28 28 notes that horror soundtracks often utilize semi-familiar noises such as machinery and radio, sounds that may be calculable in terms of timbre or duration, but less so in terms of pitch. Lloyd Whitesell, 29 similarly, characterizes this music as using “amorphous textures and pitch continua, percussive shocks, [and] disturbing timbres…” 30 It is also common to describe tracks based on their interconnected processes. Such descriptions permit linguistic precision in the sense that it properly de!nes most of a track's structure, although they may, as a result, be musically reductive. I described the previous Pokémon Sun and Moon example, for instance, as a juxtaposition of two musical processes: a set of reversed samples and a layer of static or otherwise technological sounds. “But Nobody Came” from Undertale (2015) is another example of a track that elicits a potent a"ect through an easily describable process. It accompanies the titular text “But nobody came.” in one of the game's routes in which the player murders every single inhabitant of the Underground. On the surface, the track consists of a series of terrifyingly low-pitched events in an 31 Cheng (2014, 108–109). 29 Whitesell (2009, 207). For example of other authors characterizing a kind of "horror" sound, see Donnelley 30 (2005) and Staiger (2020). For additional context, this is by far considered to be the "bad" route of the game, as even though killing 31 enemies is commonplace in most video games, Undertale largely encourages the player to befriend or spare the creatures they encounter. 29 Example 4: Flowey the Flower vs "Photoshop Flowey" (!nal boss form) e"ectively indiscernible meter. The track, however, is actually an extremely slowed-down version of a track that is reminiscent of “Your Best Friend,” a track that plays when the player meets Flowey (Example 4), a being who appears harmless on the surface but is actually hellbent on killing everything in the game (including the game itself). Thus, the process and narrative signi!cance of the track are simple: it is a slowed down version of a track that is representative of a genocidal character, accompanying an action the player takes that is itself genocidal. The further one strays away from this archetypical horror sound, however, the more precise one can be with both transcription and analysis. Fenimore's analysis of the music for the “madhouse” scene in Psycho, for instance, relies on motivic recognition of the “madness” motif; Royal Brown's 32 analysis of the “Hitchcock chord” is also contingent on recognizable musical terminology; he describes it as o"-putting due to its simultaneous major and minor %avorings. To be very clear, these types of 33 analyses are not more valuable in any way relative to ones that focus on musical e"ect; instead, they o"er a di"erent kind of insight into a kind of music that uses more aspects from more traditional music, thus they may be analyzed with more traditional tools. Traditional analytical methods that traditionally describe atonal pitch structures, however, have rarely been seen with regard to media music. This infrequency is perhaps due to the more e"ect- oriented approach to dissonance in this genre; that is to say, the feeling of the music is prioritized. I, however, elucidate the advantages of a more speci!c focus on pitch in such dissonant video game music; in the same way atonal analysis has been used to uncover hidden con%ict narratives in art music, Fenimore (2009, 92). 32 Brown (1982, 31). 33 30 so too can it be applied to media music. After all, if the opportunity is a"orded to us, why not take 34 advantage of it? Indeed, analytical methods such as pitch-class set analysis, twelve-tone analysis, etc., have been instrumental in identifying narrative throughlines for more programmatic atonal music. In a manner similar to Patricia Carpenter's narrative analyses, narrative readings from Jack Boss's exploration of 35 Pierrot Lunaire, Joseph Straus's analysis using intervallic representations in The Rite of Spring, James Donaldson's tracking of changing topics in Living Toys, and many others have demonstrated the ability of such systems to support story and narrative content, often by way of uncovering the otherwise hidden structures. 36 Suggesting that atonal analysis may be applied to media music is not unique; Vincent Gassi's dissertation primarily regarding Jerry Goldsmith's score for Planet of the Apes (1968) is an in-depth exploration of how the twelve-tone method can be orchestrated with the intent of being both audible and narratively signi!cant. Gassi writes that the “manipulation of other elements such as duration, dynamics, and timbre” signi!cantly aids in a tone row's ability to be intuited. Although my 37 exploration centers around video game music, I lean heavily onto this outlook in making my own assertions about the e"ect of suddenly dissonant music in the genre. More speci!cally, atonal music in these ludic circumstances oftentimes evokes a speci!c topic of atonality that can be further analyzed in terms of its discrete pitch content (as opposed to the “amorphous” pitch spectra as described by See the aforementioned Boss (2022) regarding sonata form in George Walker's Piano Sonata, Maler (2018), 34 among many others. Carpenter (1983); Dineen (2005).35 Boss (2019); Straus (2022); Donaldson (2022). 36 Gassi (2019, 7). 37 31 Whitesell) to better understand its placement in the narrative. To properly discuss this, I choose to investigate and discuss music that can indeed be transcribed and interpreted with more precise pitches. Methodology and Significance Of course, the incomprehensibility of horror music is one of its strengths. Additionally, it would seem that I'm trying to have it both ways: I argue that atonal music can itself constitute a topic that complements an enigmatic horror soundtrack while also suggesting that removing that layer of enigma enhances its inarticulability. On the contrary, I conduct my analyses such that they, broadly speaking, distinguish between sonic e"ect (the reaction a player has to the a"ect or general sound of the track independent of ludic input) and narrative e"ect (an understanding of how the track's musical elements support their ludic actions or the story at large). For the former, I treat pitch dissonance as a signi!cant factor in the uncomfortable affect of these tracks, yet another reason as to why I choose to operate with soundtracks that are primarily tonal; dissonance becomes far more marked when it !nally does appear. Regarding the latter, I explore the tracks' statuses as novelly dissonant pieces of music by 38 critically analyzing their pitch content, elucidating how their internal pitch structures (as made audible through other musical parameters) support the narratives or ludic situations in which they are placed. In short, I am examining both how a dissonant track sounds and what it may do to a listener; in doing so, I explore how the immersive potential of ludic environments is enhanced. For clari!cation, “marked” is being used in the way it often applied in literature regarding topic theory (see 38 Chapter II); that is, a parameter containing signi!cant enough contrast to the other constituent parts to make it noticeable and a"ective. 32 I demonstrate the hermeneutic bene!t of analyzing such discrete pitch structures, showing that it can reveal musical con%ict narratives and promote immersive potential by introducing subtle, yet noticeable incongruities between similar musical !gures. More speci!cally, this dissertation explores dissonant music in video games in which consonance is the expected musical idiom. Such music is marked on account of its unexpectedness relative to the rest of the soundtrack. Although it is not determined that such music utilizes discrete, easily transcribable pitch con!gurations, I choose to focus on such tracks to aid in the process of analysis. By using fairly rudimentary atonal analytical techniques to investigate these tracks, I extract a narrative that is appropriate to the ludic situation the track accompanies; by contributing an atonal perspective to the !eld, this study e"ectively adds a narrative layer of understanding to the already intuitive and discussed connection between pitch, a"ect/topic, and ludic interaction. These narratives may be aurally driven by a cultural sense of topical atonality but remain personal to each listener. As such, I prove that these tracks only serve to enhance the immersive environment in which individual players !nd themselves, contributing to the ludomusicological !eld's dedication to understanding player immersion (albeit a very personal immersion), particularly through narrative. 39 See Grosser (2020, 4) for further explanation on “musical narrative created through MMA and MMI in 39 music,” e"ectively a means of linking player action to an embodied understanding of on-screen action, as propelled by music. 33 Dissertation Outline To explore the atonal idiom in video game music, as well as specify the e"ects of particular atonal phenomena, this dissertation is split into several chapters. Each concerns a portion of this multifaceted question, one that necessitates various interlocking perspectives. While this codependence limits my ability to provide !rm answers, my exploration nonetheless aims to apply the same analytical rigor given to atonal art music to media music, while respecting the di"erences between the two mediums. Chapter II largely gives a more comprehensive review of the e"ects of dissonance on various audiences in di"erent genres. In total, this review de!nes a sort of atonal “idiomatic topic” that, while initially not contingent on !lmic associations, is then directly applied to audiovisual media to evoke certain a"ective responses. I loosely de!ne several atonal or dissonant idioms that make use of dissonance in di"erent ways; in general, those idioms that utilize discrete pitches invoke a distinctly Second-Viennese style, although it may be troped with other more intensely picturesque dissonant idioms (i.e., indiscrete pitches, etc.). By de!ning such a topic, we can begin to track its unique use amidst a generally tonal soundtrack, perhaps the clearest way of discerning the di"erences between tonal and atonal styles. As such, this chapter reviews literature on topic theory at large, the e"ects of dissonance on audiences, and its speci!c application to media; as video games are this dissertation's primary focus, Chapter II will brie%y discuss topic and its e"ect on immersion, although I focus more on immersive environments rather than “interactive” player immersion. 40 41 Munday (2017, 52). 40 van Elferen (2016, 37); Collins (2013, 59). 41 34 Chapter III presents a more in-depth review of atonal analytical methods, pointing towards an “a"ect-e"ect” analytical dualism that permits a simultaneous reading of narrative structure and a"ective/sonic purpose. This chapter—and thus, this dissertation—focuses primarily on pitch-class set analysis, twelve-tone analysis, contour analysis, voice-leading analysis, transformational analysis and formal analysis. In particular, this dissertation utilizes older approaches to these analyses, those conjured and widely disseminated by Forte, Morris, etc., not necessarily out of convenience, but more as an appeal to accessibility; these methods of analysis have been widely disseminated since their inceptions. This outlook requires several theoretical backings; as such, I emphasize three atonal 42 sub!elds to legitimize my analyses. First, I use studies on atonal form and segmentation to underpin my notion that discernible motives can be extracted from a dissonant texture. I then provide a comprehensive overview of the ways that motives have been related to each other in the past (set classes, etc.). Finally, and most crucially, this chapter outlines outlooks on the way in which these changes are made more audible when applied to an audiovisual narrative (through timbre, rhythmic motives, contour, etc.), how these changes may be interpreted emotionally, and how stories are supported through repetition of some iteration of the transformation. Chapter IV presents a more precise overview on how these atonal relationships are narratively conceived relative to the rest of a game's soundtrack, relying on the link between motivic expression and motivic motion found in even the most complex of analyses. Dissonance—a factor of music that Of course, this was famously commented on by Perle (1990, 151), who criticizes The Structure of Atonal 42 Music's relation to the “‘common sense’ experience” (see Chapter III); however, I here use it to highlight motives that relate to each other, rather than as a criticism of Forte's systems. 35 often necessitates such complexity—of many kinds can, of course, be used in any setting, but the musical environment in which a dissonant track !nds itself may radically alter the way in which it is received or interpreted. Although I am primarily concerned with video games that use primarily tonal soundtracks, this dissonance exists, undoubtedly, on a spectrum; as such, I must here de!ne tonality to an extent similar to how I de!ned atonality in the previous chapter. If a hypothetically dissonant track were to be inserted in a Kirby game, for instance, the e"ect would be far harsher than that of Chrono Trigger (1995), the soundtrack of which already utilizes several nonfunctional harmonic practices (the reader will !nd, as such, that many of my analytical examples come from children's games, though this is not unilaterally true). Chapter IV, as such, is an extension of the second in that it acknowledges 43 that the baseline for “dissonance” in a video game soundtrack is contingent on a complex relationship between the game's internal musical universe and the player's societally acquired understanding of consonance and dissonance. This multidimensional analysis references Jean-Jacques Nattiez's tripartite interpretive system—the poietic, the esthesic, and the trace—as well as other authors that prioritize musical expression regardless of who is the analytical subject. Chapter V presents three analyses of video game tracks, providing the musical context of each and using the atonal analytical methods as de!ned in Chapter III to track internal narratives that support the larger setting the track supports. Speci!cally, I analyze "Battle Against Dusknoir" from Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky (2009), "Old Chateau" from Pokémon Diamond, Pearl, and Platinum (2006, 2008), and "Fighting Cole and Malladus" from The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks See 8-bit Music Theory's video “Nonfunctional Harmony in Chrono Trigger [sic]” (2017) for a more speci!c 43 dive into the game's soundtrack; I do not discuss it in any substantial depth in this dissertation. 36 (2009). This chapter solidi!es the argument made in the previous three chapters, that atonal analytical methods can uncover both a track's role as emotional instigator and a supporter of the ludic narrative. In doing so, I strengthen my dissertation's assertion that atonal analyses of media music can uncover special narrative traits unavailable to absolute music as well as encourage rigorous analysis of dissonant media music beyond that of a holistic label that denotes its a"ective function. Chapter VI is an endorsement of utilizing this atonal-media approach in the post-tonal theory classroom. It presents analyses from throughout the dissertation and reframes them as extended lesson plans in criticism of post-tonal theory's !xation on a very speci!c canon, that of (often) white, Western, and male composers of classical art music. Adopting analyses such as mine permits a reexamination of this !xation and broadly encourages exploration into other ways that post-tonal analysis—considered in this chapter as a worthwhile component to undergraduate music degrees—may be implemented in the classroom. It does so, in this case, primarily by presenting other genres in which atonal idioms are used; this further breaks down the often-implied edict that Western classical music is the ultimate arbiter of musical quality. Additionally, this chapter suggests opportunities for struggling music curricula to make post-tonal analysis relevant to students of non-classical music (assuming a modular curriculum is not !rst applied). In general, I apply an art-!rst approach to this style of teaching—I always prompt student to ask contextual questions—something that I retain throughout the dissertation by including numerous musical examples, not only as a way to legitimize my thesis, but set an example for how I envision the thesis to be applied. 37 Before embarking on this journey, however, I want to clarify what I personally mean when I refer to "analysis." The word can mean a host of di"erent things in di"erent contexts, but for us here, analysis serves as an idiosyncratic connection between the individual and the community to which they belong. The way that I hear this music is driven not only by the countless number of musicians creating music, but the countless more that absorb it everyday. Indeed, the way that I choose to engage with it is unique in some way, but it is one voice in a musical landscape with innumerable other unique voices and thoughts. I stress here that the thesis of my dissertation is one that encourages other voices to speak out: considering atonal pitch relationships is only a microcosm of these beliefs—in the way that I encourage the use of a hitherto unused lens to a popular repertoire, so too do I encourage others to be critical in their listenings, in whatever way that feels appropriate to them. That is to say, I do not analyze with the intent of discovering anything “true” about the music besides how it a"ects me, as founded by a community of so many others who !nd a similar kind of beauty in what they hear. 38 Chapter II: Atonality as Topic in Video Game Music “If you could imagine dissonance assuming human form—and what else is man?—this dissonance would need, to be able to live, a magni!cent illusion which would spread a veil of beauty over its own nature.” —Friedrich Nietzsche Dissonance vs. Atonality De!ning dissonance and atonality is paramount in this study because the “surprise” factor that I describe is contingent on a track's status as decidedly “not tonal.” Such a descriptor, however, requires the quali!er that dissonance often exists amidst recognizably tonal bounds, particularly in media music. For example, Jonathan Bernard speaks of a second wave of “neotonality” in the early 1960s, the eventual recognition of “the truly vast number of different ways it is possible for new music to be tonal.” Implicit in this assertion is the understanding that aspects of dissonance, as was attempted to 44 be wholly proselytized by the more experimental composers in the era prior, were retained despite America's musical conservatism. Thus, we are left in the modern era with an extensively broad view of 45 tonality such that the minimal parameters for its application as a term may be reduced to as much as a concept of pitch centricity. Indeed, defining a base standard for what is sufficiently atonal becomes 46 surprisingly difficult; our deeply held understanding of tonal function may obscure a simple definition of a piece of music as more tonal or atonal. One may ask themselves, “is it actually atonal, or merely dissonant?” Bernard (2008, 538). Bernard borrows the term from Eric Salzman, as a way to engender tonal reference in 44 late twentieth-century music without the generic implications of “neoclassical.” Bernard (2008, 535–7). That progressive musical interests operated only at the edges of American concert-45 musical society permitted a distinctly national conservative lean to take root, perhaps permanently. Salzman (1974). 46 39 Frank Lehman presents an intriguing method to define parameters to help us answer that question with slightly more confidence. He posits three different continua (Example 5a), the three dimensions of which form a cube called the “triadic tonality space”; it contains eight different vertices effectively representing the different ways that triadic dissonance is implemented. The three continua are as follows: a) centricity, the extent to which a piece of music has a clearly highlighted pitch (class); b) diatonicity, the extent to which that piece adheres to a standard heptatonic system vs. a system with all twelve pitch classes; and c) functionality, or how “strong[ly] normative” the harmonic syntax is. In 47 Example 5a, for instance, the origin representing triadic common-practice tonality encompasses a maximum of all three criteria (despite a mathematical representation of (0, 0, 0)). However, the graphic Lehman (2018, 204–5). Lehman de!nes such normative harmonic syntax as a “!fth-based harmonic grammar 47 of common practice (CP) tonality.” Although other historical methods of conceiving of tonal function exist (see Riemann (1872b), for example), this de!nition remains su$cient due to the omnipresence of ii–V–I that dominates tonal landscapes. 40 Har monious Interact ions 205 diatonicism. But overall, the space models all commonly encountered styles based on the consonant triad, and a few that are not so common.7 !e entire right face of the cube comprises what before now I have loosely described as “triadic chro- maticism.” Pantriadicism is now recognizable as the harmonic style at furthest remove from CP tonality. !e other corners of the cube describe tonal idioms that have received comparatively less attention thus far in this study, and they warrant elaboration. Common- practice tonality: Music in which tonal functionality, centricity, and diatonic macroharmony are all active. !roughout #lm history, CP tonality has served as a musical shorthand for normality and normalcy, though this is not to downplay the expressive richness that can be wrung out of even the most conserv- atively conceived white- note harmony. If described by the basic neo- Riemannian operators, diatonic progressions involve combinations of L and R but not P (ex- cept for the parallel transformation necessary to obtain the V♯3 in minor). John Barry’s #lm music tends to be more devoted to functional diatonicism than that of many of his contemporaries, and this devotion pays expressive dividends with his lyrical, easily remembered themes for dramas like Out of Africa (1985) and Dances with Wolves (1990). Modal tonality: Music that maintains a single tonic and adheres locally to a single diatonic collection, but that lacks a strong sense of tonal function, par- ticularly because of the absence of familiar dominant- driven cadential formulae. Modal tonality includes music that uses church scales (dorian, phrygian, etc.) instead of the usual major/ minor system. Additionally, pentatonic scales and Modal Tonality Pandiatonicism Tethered Chromaticism Roving Chromaticism Roving Diatonicism Common Practice Tonality Functional Chromaticism Pantriadic Chromaticism Diatonicity Fu nc ti on al it y Centricit y Figure 6.3 Triadic tonality space. Example 5a (left): Lehman, the “triadic tonality space” Example 5b (right): Hypothetical generalized tonality space with the origin (0, 0, 0) acting as common- practice tonality functionality (0, ∞, 0) (0, 0, 0) centricity (0, 0, ∞) diatonicity (∞, 0, 0) representation of the space implies “pantriadic chromaticism.” If one were to remove to the 48 requirement of triadic chord configurations (and, thus, the necessity of defined endpoints for each continuum; see Example 5b), they could reasonably define remote vertices as the antithesis of tonality writ large (that is, common-practice tonality) as it too can be described as lacking centricity, diatonicity, and functionality. Adopting this definition has its advantages; it clearly delineates atonality from extensive dissonance in that any piece in which any of Lehman's criteria can be detected would be, by definition, not completely atonal, instead utilizing a heavy amount of dissonance. Retaining his model without the triadic criterion or definite endpoints, however, is not without its disadvantages. Indeed, the system provides the analyst with terminology they may use to post hoc provide a label to a piece of music after the listening experience (and perhaps even the analysis). It, maybe more importantly, also allows the analyst to reference tonal parameters as potentially signaling something important amidst an atonal framework. On the other hand, it does not sufficiently describe or define 49 the threshold at which a listener will characterize that music as “adequately dissonant”; that is to say, it Lehman (2018, 66; emphasis mine). 48 Allusions to tonality in atonal frameworks, for example, are one of the primary points in Jack Boss's analysis 49 of Schoenberg's Erwartung: he writes that, in the end of the fourth scene, “Both the descent and the change to a diatonic sound world contradict the preceding ‘Body’ motive, further reinforcing the overall sense that [the lover's body's] presence is vanishing” Boss (2019, 218). 41 & & 44 44 .. .. .. .. Piano œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. œ. ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ & & Pno. 5 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ & & Pno. 15 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ & & Pno. 23 ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ ∑ © Score Example 6: Undertale, "But Nobody Came," only perceivable when sped up does not necessarily help pinpoint where a listener might consider the track marked relative to the rest of the soundtrack. Additional problems arise when the musical material is unmistakably tonal, such as the Undertale example from before (Example 6), but has been altered in such a way where the tonality is 50 masked. Again, the music has been slowed down to the point of obfuscation; it is not clear if it should be analyzed with tonal or dissonant standards. My solution to this problem lies in topic theory. Its modern application effectively creates categories of semiotic interpretation composed of, depending on the theory, many different musical sub- parameters. Oftentimes, those subcategories include pitch. As such, should we define enough characteristics that together form a sonic picture of atonality, the exact point at which dissonant music becomes marked becomes significantly less important; instead, its markedness is defined holistically through the presence of enough of these characteristics. Topic Theory: Old vs. New I must reiterate that my use of the term “topic” is distinguished from its original conception and its modern usage. Coined by Leonard Ratner in Classic Music: Expression, Form, and Style, the term topic originally referred to “subjects for musical discourse,” essentially distinct, semiotically charged references 51 that signified genre through stylistic allusion or vice versa. Recognition of a topic within a musical work involves, then, an understanding of two disparate musical elements; its “type,” a fully-constructed work I placed the key of this transcription as C major to avoid the problems that would arise from designating it a 50 key when it was not originally meant to be interpreted as in one at all without sonic modi!cation. Ratner (1980, 9).51 42 equivalent to a genre, and the “style,” the signified element within that type that typifies the original 52 musical referent (the “hunt,” therefore, is a fairly common example of such a topic). As such, Robert Hatten arbitrated Ratner's initial definition to refer to “complex musical correlation[s] originating in a kind of music” and then applied to another piece of music with the intent on signifying the original 53 correlation. It is arguably this arbitration that initiated the path toward its modern application. Discussions of topic—in media music especially—seem to conceive as topics as far more fundamentally pictorial or representative in nature. Instead of a compositional style that is necessarily interpreted in terms of the genre in which it is utilized, the elements that compose a modern topic are themselves stylistic elements, without the explicit reference to an underpinning genre. Due to the reference to some sort of stylistic inclination in both the older and newer definitions, the confusion and differentiation in their use, becomes clear. Indeed, Danuta Mirka writes that: “…the study of musical topics has been confounded by discrepancies between representatives of topic theory, who expanded this concept beyond cross-references between styles and genres.” 54 Her desire to disambiguate the use of the term in her volume is clear. As such, the term stands (as is its use in this dissertation) as a reference to related, yet distinct dimensions of music with different analytical considerations. Mirka (2014, 1) writes that types and genres are more or less equivalent, a conclusion drawn by examining 52 Ratner's list of types; I will use my understanding of “genre” in my subsequent explanations. Hatten (1994, 294). 53 Mirka (2014, 1). 54 43 David Neumeyer's seminal book, Meaning and Interpretation of Music in Cinema, further generalizes the pictorial concept of topic. Referencing Hatten, he develops something of a continuum for topics and their associated concept of “trope.” While Hatten defines trope, effectively, as an additive process combining multiple topics, implying a sort of boundary between the two, Neumeyer places the 55 two on a spectrum (Example 7). It is worth noting Hatten's inclusion of a third category called “gesture,” musical figures that combine to form topics, something like a morpheme in linguistics. Topic, however, seems to carry more weight as the more important musical concept due to the relative ease with which one may associate meaning to each. For the purposes of this dissertation, this effectively means that topics can indeed (and without too much semiotic headache) be understood as imprecise stylistic associations; so long as the “culturally stable [and] familiar” aspects of the topic are identifiable, it may be heard as a topic. Even more 56 pertinently, should a sufficiently atonal piece include elements of tonality, it can be understood as a trope, the constituent topics of which are applied unevenly and “cinematically”; the weight of each would, then, Hatten (2004, 3).55 Neumeyer (2015, 185). 56 44 Introduction to Part 3 185 Pragmatically, for the sake of interpretation of specific musical cues in a film context, I believe it is most effective to treat topic and trope in the form of a con- tinuum (see figure 6.0a). One might think of this as oscillating between Claudia Gorbman’s cultural musical code (relatively stable, generally understood) and cinematic musical codes (developed or reconceived in the context of an indi- vidual film, therefore both unstable and creative). A troping effect is laid on a topic when it is treated in an expressive rather than neutral fashion, an effect that is cumulative. "us, a single altered element (such as guitar rather than piano, added reverb, slower or faster than expected tempo, or a distinctive articulation such as non legato) may or may not significantly alter the topic, but more than one (“-(s)” in figure 6.0a) almost certainly will. An analogous topical effect is laid on a trope by repetition, as in the establishment of motifs (whether visual, verbal, or aural). We could, of course, argue that troping is inevitable because figures of speech are inevitable; indeed, the meaning of “troping” is all too easily expanded to be- come synonymous with “creative writing.” With respect to film, troping can be said to be inevitable because of Michel Chion’s principle of added value: the music must change the image (and vice versa). Although differences in tempo and instrumentation will certainly play a role, I will follow Chion here in that I understand the greater potential for a strongly expressive troping as occurring not within the music cue itself but between the image and the sound. I invoke the continuum, however, in order to emphasize the idea that, for purposes of inter- pretation, such expressive juxtapositions are best understood and evaluated as a matter of degree. From a methodological viewpoint, the utility of this construct is what the several readings in chapters 6 and 7 are designed to demonstrate.⁷ Two simple examples will suffice to get the idea across in a preliminary way. As another substitution exercise, suppose that we removed Eddie Heywood’s band from the dance scene in !e Dark Corner discussed in chapter 1 and re- placed it with an early twentieth-century hotel orchestra of the kind Waxman in- voked for the hotel lobby scene in Rebecca (recall chapter 2). "e latter, with its moderate-tempo waltzes and lush but largely desexualized tangos, would cer- tainly signal elegance appropriate to Hardy Cathcart’s home and to the occasion of the party. In 1946, however, such hotel orchestras were rapidly disappearing along with their style of music, as the war years had accelerated the cultural in- stitutionalization of the swing band. "us, contemporary music of a jazz-based Figure 6.0a: Topic and trope: a continuum model.Example 7: Neumeyer, the “continuum model” potentially determine its overall affect. One purpose of this descriptive ambiguity is ironically in service of definitional rigidity. Neumeyer himself quotes Raymond Monelle (2006): “Comprehensive lists of topics are probably of little use and are not the way to do topic theory. . . . Topical analysis works best when we proceed ad hoc, allowing musical texts to suggest new topics as they arise.” 57 Such commitment to understanding musical affect and topic in terms of the emotional responses they elicit is the perspective from which this dissertation originated. It is worth reiterating, however, that this difference is slight relative to the other things they share, likely a portion of why Mirka's disambiguation in her Introduction was necessitated in the first place. Authors more concerned with Classic music such as Giorgio Pestelli—and Kofi Agawu thereafter— similarly reference aspects of topic that, when combined, form a “universe of topics.” Agawu notes that 58 Neumeyer (2015, 187); Monelle (2006, ix–x). 57 Agawu (1991, 30).58 45 1. alla breve 2. alla zoppa 3. amoroso 4. aria 5. bourrée 6. brilliante style 7. cadenza 8. sensibility | Emp!ndsamkeit 9. fanfare 10. fantasy 11. French overture 12. gavotte 13. hunt style 14. learned style 15. Mannheim rocket 16. march 17. minuet 18. musette 19. ombra 20. opera bu"a 21. pastoral 22. recitative 23. sarabande 24. sigh motif (Seufzer) 25. singing style 26. Sturm und Drang 27. Turkish music Example 8: Agawu, “The Universe of Topic” (provisional) although Pestelli did not himself use the term “topic,” his writing on the stylistic possibilities of the time map fairly well onto the concept of topics as described by Ratner et al. Stylistic quirks such as “Alberti bass” construct semiotic affordances that are used to signal certain larger stylistic categories. Though not 59 an exhaustive list by his own admission, Agawu discusses a set of twenty-seven different topics that result from Pestelli's music-stylistic observances, shown in Example 8. Indeed, Pestelli writes that Mozart's 60 strength was in manipulating these styles such that they would effortlessly intermingle, creating a “network of nuances and complex relationships between pre-existing musical ideas.” Such technical 61 ability indicates that certain musical elements can, in a sense, pivot to being part of a different topic, almost akin to Neumeyer's continuum. Both the conservative and modern definitions of topic can at least agree that identifying the musical figures and parameters that make up a topic requires a hefty amount of specificity in order to differentiate one topic from another, even if they may share similar qualities on the surface. Stephen Rumph, championing the more classical definition, for instance, borrows a linguistic term from Louis Hjelmslev in the conception of musical figurae, what he summarizes as “the equivalent of a topical phoneme.” A figura is in itself a nonsignified element of language (or music, in this case) that gains 62 meaning due to new arrangements thereof. Similar to how I described Hatten's concept of gesture as a morpheme—multiple phonemes compose a morpheme—multiple figurae compose a gesture. Following Hatten's definition, many arrangements of figurae, therefore, compose topics. Rumph's first example of Agawu (1991; 31); Pestelli (1979, 136). 59 Agawu (1991, 30). Many of the styles in which Pestelli claims composers were well-versed (particularly Mozart) 60 appear here as well. Pestelli (1979, 138). 61 Rumph (2011, 70); Hjelmslev (1961, 47–60). 62 46 this interaction references Mozart's Le nozze di Figaro: Susanna's gavotte features a displaced meter wherein a double upbeat is created due to the accent of the third beat of the meter. Much in line with the older conception of topic being reliant on an overarching genre, Rumph claims that—although displaced meter is not in itself a topically charged musical element—this metrical offset, combined with other figurae, such as the “horn pedal and concertante winds,” create topical references. Such potential references include a list consisting of “gavotte, pastorale, gigue, siciliano, and passepied,” a clear signal that a generic foundation is vital for the understanding of classical topic. 63 An uncannily similar approach is taken with the more modern definition of topic, perhaps best illustrated by Megan Lavengood and Evan Williams. Their article attempts to define a “winter topic” in video game music by utilizing computational musicology to extract “tags”—essentially the computational version of figurae—that are found consistently through relevant soundtracks. By investigating “over 160 examples of music accompanying wintry settings, broadly construed to include towns blanketed in snow, ice caverns, winter holiday celebrations, and winter sporting events,” Lavengood and Williams generate tags that accurately describe each piece. The tags, which include terms such as #electric_piano and #major, do not communicate any inherent topical significance just as Rumph's do not. There are, for instance, an inconceivably large number of pieces of music that are in the major mode that do not signify winter. Also like Rumph, however, the combination of these tags with other common wintry tags does indeed form topical associations. The list of tags that they consider “winter’s most important musical characteristics” includes reverb, arpeggiations, metallic percussion (pitched), pizzicato strings, and the Rumph (2011, 70).63 47 absence of standard drums (membranophones). The major difference between this approach and 64 Rumph's, however, is again the way in which the musical phoneme becomes marked; while the novelty of Rumph's figurae presupposes a conflict in the performed genres, Lavengood and Williams' tags are novel because they communicate the congruence between audio and visuals, as is appropriate for the multimedia they are describing. My dissertation continues to use the term figurae to denote the individual stylistic components because they were not extracted computationally as Lavengood and Williams' were; however, I still use the term in service of the audiovisual congruence I described before. Ludomusicological Topic and Immersion Many authors have described the power of this congruence in video game music. Indeed, ludic topic and its more conservative interpretations share a reliance on cultural understanding. In fact, the 65 power of topical signification is arguably more important in video game music because of the commitment to immersion. More importantly, it is the repetition of these topical signifiers that truly 66 gives them meaning; without it, the individual gestures cannot, as a single entity, appropriately enhance the game's environment. After all, the sounds that we experience in a ludic environment are entirely constructed; the inherent soundlessness of a ludic environment requires music to “repair” the game world, in a sense. High immersive potential is necessary to make up for this soundlessness because computer-generated environments are inherently silent. Unfortunately, merely using realistic sounds is 67 Lavengood & Williams (2023). 64 Summers (2019, 40). 65 Summers (2019, 41). Summers characterizes this as “communicating with the player,” though the implication 66 is that this is in service of immersing them. See also Whalen (2004). Munday (2007, 52); Cohen (2000; 367). 67 48 not sufficient to create a believable sonic world; it is the job of the composer, sound designer, etc., to artfully promote a “sympathetic” relationship between player and environment. This dissertation reasserts that topic aids this relationship further. 68 To that end, nearly all scholarship on video game music and immersion refers to a certain level of congruence between music and environment. Isabella van Elferen's chapter on the “ALI model,” for example, constructs a tripartite understanding of how players become immersed in environments. In short, this understanding comprises the affect of the music, the level of literacy the player has with sonic convention, and the amount of interaction the player has with the sonic elements of the world. Her assertion that literacy is a significant portion of the system is important; the “recognizability” is critical in promoting the critical environmental sympathy. Such recognition is undeniably similar to how Agawu 69 characterizes the recognition of topic even in eighteenth-century music; being knowledgable in its stylistic devices is to be aware of the paradigms that compose them. Such a relationship, as Agawu puts it, is inherently “listener-oriented.” 70 Although van Elferen does not use the word “topic” in her chapter, she describes the constituent elements (the tags, figurae, etc.) that could compose them. Notably, they are not necessarily exclusive to video games; they might perform a similar role for film and television. As such, media literacy at large contributes to increased immersive potential in video games. For instance, in describing the filmic 71 Collins (2008, 133). 68 van Elferen (2016, 37). See Grasso (2020, 58) for a further di"erentiation between “knowing” and “feeling” 69 the a"ective changes in a video game environment and its associated music. Musical elements that re%ect the “pastoral,” for example—solemn, Taps-like melody contour and tempo—might be a"ectively charged because of their relative positioning in the open form as opposed to any objective temporal measurement. Agawu (1991, 49). 70 van Elferen (2016, 36). 71 49 fantasy genre, she lists many stylistic elements such as “airy female voices indicating the fantasy world's idyllic peace; heavy drums, brass and choir indicating the threat of evil powers; [and] the consonant, cadencing relief of heroic rescue.” Furthermore, in horror contexts, she references Dead Space's 72 distorted versions of “the ambient soundscape of white noise and wind… completed by worn-out horror film clichés such as disembodied laughter, ephemeral childsong, ghostly music boxes, and the sounds of half-broken arcade game consoles.” Critically, the recognizability of the topical components (be it the 73 parts or the topics themselves) promotes the immersion; she criticizes theories such as “imaginative immersion” as they do not inherently incorporate extraludic context as she believes is necessary. We will 74 return to such prototopical characterizations in my later discussion of topical dissonance. In short, the recognizability of a topic facilitates the otherwise inhuman environment to which it is applied. As Collins asserts, games often deal with the unrealistic, but a level of “believability” is still required to foster the desired sympathy. To make matters more complex, she cites James Lastra in her claim that a certain amount of “naturalness” is necessary in the constructed sound in a potentially unrealistic environment as well, generating a realistic enough sense of ludic action. Julianne Grasso 75 adopts “affective zones” to facilitate the transmission of particular emotional responses; in effect, VGM prompts both a cerebral (memory) and embodied response and the environments/mechanics within the van Elferen (2016, 37). 72 van Elferen (2016, 41). 73 van Elferen (2016, 37); Collins (2008, 134). The original term that van Elferen criticizes refers more to the 74 o"er by the game to become immersed in the way that they so desire. Presumably, van Elferen does not disagree with the concept, simply that the acceptance of the o"er necessitates more than merely engaging with the ludic objects alone. Collins (2008, 134–35); Lastra (2000, 207). 75 50 game serve as the glue that converge the two into what she calls “congruence” between all three. 76 Although she does not emphasize it, topic theory serves as an apt answer to this conundrum as well (in accordance with van Elferen's property of recognizability). Although it is difficult to determine the extent to which music is affecting the player or the environment (because of the connection between player and environment that is promoted through ludic interaction), it is reasonable to assume that any topical reference does, as Agawu noted, rely on listener interpretation. 77 And how have these topics been historically represented in video game soundtracks, operating under the assumption of recognizability? Many authors have worked to contribute to a sort of “cinematic” topical universe (distinct from Agawu's original term), using video games as the source. Each author identifies not only the topic that contributes to environmental immersive potential, but the compositional tactics that elicit them. Occasionally, "Neumeyerian" tropes are invoked, and the authors will discuss how the combination of topics, typically stemming from a dual-purpose figura or tag, will create new meanings that paradoxically contribute to immersion instead of detracting from it. Perhaps the most widely disseminated article on the subject is Sean Atkinson's from 2019, writing about the “soaring” topic. He describes it as itself a trope of several other pictorial topics: “the martial, transcendence, machines, and the supernatural.” Interestingly, however, its formation as a conglomerate 78 of other topics does not preclude it from having its own set of figurae: Atkinson lists several different musical examples from film that (together) contribute to a feeling of flight: examples include rapid Grasso (2020, 69–71).76 This imprecision is highlighted most notably by Munday (2007, 57), who posits a sort of “cognitive 77 immersion” that suggests that “the choice of music played in a video-gaming situation is immaterial to the immersion it provides.” Atkinson (2019). 78 51 moving figures and arpeggiations, large melodic leaps, ascending melodies, and the Lydian mode. Notably, he writes that such a topic is recognizable even without a filmic or ludic analog; however, it is 79 undeniable that its use in video game music can be used to influence player decisions by alluding or recalling certain narrative events. Atkinson's article, however, focuses more on pitch configurations. The primary reference to an instrumental or timbral contribution to the soaring topic is the harp flourish that ascends via glissando; in this case, the combination of the two appears to be the actual figura, not the separate presences of harp and ascending glissandi. Timbre becomes a significantly more important aspect in The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (2017), as described by Wesley Bradford. Bradford indeed talks about the pitch configurations of both mechanistic and naturalistic topics that exist and commingle within the game; however, the types of timbres that form the sonic underpinning of those configurations are paramount (e.g., the distinction between human/instrumental and synthesized timbres). Even more interestingly, we gain new tropic 80 understanding (that is, new meaning when multiple topics are combined) when those timbral implications overlap with each other, such as when the naturalistic piano serves as the introduction to the dangerous, mechanistic fights against Guardians. While it is difficult to necessarily describe the timbres 81 in broad categories, Bradford writes that the mechanistic topic uses “electronic or mechanical timbres”; we may summarize this as synthesized timbres. It stands to reason, thus, that the antithesis of this 82 would be unsynthesized timbres, timbres that can be produced by humans or recognizable as being Atkinson uses the opening of “Beyond” by Daft Punk as an example.79 Bradford (2020, 7); Hatten (2004, 56). See also Yee (2020). 80 Bradford (2020, 8). 81 Bradford (2020, 8). 82 52 performed by them. Such a distinction is reminiscent of the di"erence between “corporeal” and 83 “post-corporeal” timbres as described by Arnie Cox, two key factors in understanding the type of embodied understanding a listener will have with the source. As such, when Bradford references the 84 types of timbres that are used in each topic, the timbre, he implicitly treats them as new figurae, able to be manipulated in the same way as any other pitch-based figura. The notion that timbre is a vital part of musical listening and interpretation is, at this point, banal; reference to its ability to communicate aural information to listeners has been the subject of much academic study in recent years. Most often cited is Cornelia Fales's article on the matter: she reminds us that timbre is “a link to the external world in containing the descriptive clues important for source identi!cation and for deciphering aspects of the terrain between the source and the listener.” 85 While this is certainly of worthy of consideration in all genres of music, it is particularly useful for video game music because of the constructed environments that it underscores. The soundlessness of video game environments requires as much interpretive information as possible for the player; timbre's inherent property to immediately trigger an embodied understanding is most certainly leveraged in the attempt to promote ludic immersion. Thus, its inclusion as a figura or tag (as Lavengood & Williams An example of this in Cox's view (see the below footnote) might be the comparison between a human 83 clapping versus them playing the piano. Both would be considered “corporeal” due to their understandability as originating from human means; synthesizers, on the other hand, often do not perform timbres that mimic something of human creation. Cox (2016, 184, 208). For further information on the interaction between corporeal conceptions of timbre 84 (including sight) and the resulting post-corporeal associations, see Waksman (2018, 255) wherein he describes the plight of guitarists such as Pat Metheny pushing the bounds of guitar timbres in an e"ort to achieve timbral "sourcelessness." Fales (2002, 91). 85 53 have demonstrated) is not only merited but potentially serves as one of the strongest glues that bind the player and the environment together in the ideal audiovisual link. Tim Summers's description of Wolfenstein 3D (1992), for example, treats timbre and orchestration as important aspects of the topical environment, this time of a Nazi-run “Castle Wolfenstein” during World War II. Summers identi!es two layers of topical information being relayed to the player: the musical underscore and the bodily sound e"ects. For the former, Summers writes that American and Nazi themes appear constantly, scored in di"erent ways each time; for instance, in the main menu, the Nazi theme, “Das Horst-Wessel-Lied” is played in a minor key. Throughout the game, however, a military topic is repeated, aided in large part by the use of a military band: “synthesized snare drums play[ing] march rhythms and piccolos play[ing trilling ornamentation” signify the environment in which the player !nds themselves. Recognition of the association between bands and their classic traits (e.g., high, shrill piccolo trills) establishes within the player “sonic enemy territory.” 86 Summers claims that these associations not only present narrative context, but apply immersive glue, so to speak, by linking the context to the player's actions—in this case, escaping Castle Wolfenstein with an assortment of high-powered !rearms. 87 The second dimension Summers identi!es is an assortment of heartbeats and bodily noises that permeate the soundscape. Citing Ben Winters, he writes that game's !rst-person perspective enhances immersion by forcing players to be aware of both the characters' and their own bodily Summers (2016, 67).86 Summers (2016, 68). 87 54 “precariousness.” The corporeal understanding of the bodily noises imparts a fear not just for the 88 player or the character, but a musically enacted hybrid of the two. Although Summers does not 89 particularly attribute this to a musical topic, it is undeniable that it—as a potential figura— contributes to any number of horror tropes that are designed to initiate panic; they themselves trope with the already present military themes of the game to form new identities of fear. Topical Dissonance We may now return to atonality's role in topic theory, essentially de!ning a set of pitch figurae that may together reasonably be classi!ed as such. After all, what better way to assist topics that conjure fear than dissonance? Indeed, such observations have been psychologically examined, substantiated by authors such as Helen Mitchell: referencing Dead Space, as did van Elferen, she notes that “research indicates that musical or sonic characteristics commonly associated with musical portrayals of fear, horror, evil, and so on (in the popular media), such as unresolved dissonance ... tend to induce responses more normally associated with unpleasant or stressful stimuli.” She also 90 references Stefan Koelsch’s work, claiming that “the perception of irregular chord functions has been shown to lead to an increase of perceived tension.” Clearly, dissonance has the power to elicit strong 91 Summers (2016, 68); Winters (2008, 4). 88 Summers (2016, 69). Here, Summers shows a diagram wherein a circle, representing the player is !lled in with 89 character information; an arrow labeled “music” is the only thing permeating the barrier between player and character. Mitchell (2015, 46). 90 Koelsch (2005, 46) .91 55 negative emotions. The question, however, remains: is this merely a property of acoustics that has been adopted by media music or can it be culturally informed in and of itself? I choose to believe the latter, that in fact atonality and dissonance transmit a particular kind of semiotic and topical harshness that is distinct from any of its innate acoustic qualities. The audience can, that is to say, understand dissonance primarily as a topically recognizable style and extract meaning from its use in that fashion distinct from (and in addition to) its sonic abrasiveness. While Gassi does not discuss topic directly in his dissertation, he most certainly includes reference to composers who used certain atonal compositional styles to achieve a certain stylistic end, rather than one that ambivalently treats dissonance as an alternate harmonic language. 92 To this end, Sabine Feisst writes that dodecaphonic and otherwise atonal idioms were used “stereotypically” in their application in horror, science !ction, etc., in the time of Schoenberg's role as composition instructor. She uses Ernst Gold's score for On the Beach (1959) as an example: twelve-tone rows, with their physics-like properties (to the composer) and able to chain react into other reactions, were used to symbolize radiation in that !lm. In this case, their e"ectiveness was as a result of their 93 use as more of a style diametrically opposed to tonality as opposed to an idiom in itself. Indeed, in 94 this period, Gassi writes that aleatoricism and dissonance were a stylistic minority; his exploration of Goldsmith's score for Planet of the Apes (1973) is thus in service to its commitment to a dissonant style that remained largely dodecaphonic in its execution. 95 Gassi (2019, 2–4). I place this footnote here to direct readers to Gassi's larger list of atonal !lm scores, in case 92 future readership decides to investigate the subject further. Feisst (1999, 106). 93 Feisst (1999, 105). 94 Gassi (2019, 4). 95 56 That such a style can be interpreted as “emotional” is vital to its interpretation as a topical entity. Of course, the use of sound e"ects and dissonances that prioritize timbre can be directly a"ective, as we previously noted about the power of timbre as a topical figura. Gassi, however, is committed to the idea that atonality can itself result in emotional responses despite it being, on the surface, enigmatic. The visual aspect of !lm (and by extension, video games) assists atonality's 96 a"ective power, utilizing a consistent sonic language in addition to a visual one, “bind[ing] the spectator and screen”; Gassi claims this can be tru