Journalist Paul Dean recently interviewed Skyrim composer Jeremy Soule for Eurogamer. Paul posted some additional quotes from his conversation with Jeremy on his blog, and I read something that left me sitting here in silence. Thinking.
When discussing his Skyrim score, Jeremy spoke of wanting the music to be a friend. A companion to the player. He said, “I wanted people who play this game to really not feel alone, to feel like there’s meaning to what they’re doing.”
I’ve always wondered what it is about the Skyrim soundtrack that moves me so, even now that I’m not playing the game regularly.
The music was an incredible companion through it all. Like a good friend, it was soothing at times, encouraging during others… It was lively on occasion, often pensive, threatening only when necessary, yet it never showed one hint of dispair.
This music and I spent hours in Skyrim. And now, whenever I hear it, it feels like running into a childhood friend or a college roommate years after you’ve parted ways.
The moment you see them, all the memories come back.
Whenever I hear the Skyrim score, I remember. The landscapes, the wonder, the story, the snow, the towns, the darned bears, the first giant I ran into, the dragons, the vendors who never seemed to have money when I was carrying too many dragon bones… catching butterflies, eating them, killing Lydia with fireballs without meaning to… reloading a previous save because I felt too guilty to move on without her… and that amazing long walk downhill…
It’s one mini lifetime that I shared with no one but the music.
Hope is present in every single note of this score, and during the time I played Skyrim, this hope stayed with me when I went back to reality. It became a companion in my real life.
The moment I hear it, I remember.