Bioshock Infinite released to critical acclaim in March 2013. Praised for its narrative, setting and art style, the game interweaves each of its working parts into a complete system that transcends the typical conventions of the first-person shooter genre. Incorporating historical events like the 1893 World’s Exposition and the recent Occupy movement, with concepts such as American exceptionalism, the game world is steeped in a rich backstory dealing with religious and racial tensions, giving an authentic sense of place despite the outlandish “city in the sky” premise.
Bioshock Infinite’s complexity is matched by its multifaceted use of music. In interviews with WIRED’s John Meyer and Kotaku’s Kate Cox prior to the game’s release, creative director, Ken Levine stated, “Music is going to have a strange role in this game. Stranger than BioShock at least. There’s definitely some surprises there,” (Meyer) and “The music will tie into the macro story, to some degree. But we have a lot of little stories we tell” (Cox). What is familiar is Garry Schyman’s work. Scoring the previous game in the series, Schyman’s new original soundtrack for Infinite emphasizes small string ensembles that evoke a sense of psychological terror and tension, echoing the first Bioshock title. Infinite also features popular licensed music from various eras of the twentieth century just like its predecessor. In William Gibbons’s article, “Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams,” the author argues in the first Bioshock:
On one level, this borrowed music signifies the time period evoked by the game, grounding the action in the mid-century despite the presence of futuristic technology, acting as a constant reminder of the aesthetic and cultural values of the predystopian American culture, creating a dichotomy between its optimism and the dystopian environment of Bioshock. This juxtaposition renders the songs deeply ironic, and highlights the tragedy of the grim “reality” that the protagonist experiences (“Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams”).
Set in 1912, there are plenty of period pieces within Infinite, especially church hymns, which situate the action at the turn of the century and reinforce the religious issues the game tackles. Gibbons goes on to say, “More significantly, atypically for games, the music is allowed to assume a crucial narrative function” (“Wrap”). Bioshock Infinite does this more pointedly and, I would argue, more profoundly. One of the key terms for my essay is “play,” but not in the sense of gameplay; rather, play as in using music in a variety of ways for world building, as well as hinting at the narrative’s mysteries. In “Atmospheres at Play,” Gregor Herzfeld links Immanuel Kant’s aesthetics of art and Johan Huizinga’s theory of homo ludens with music and play. He writes:
The Kantian “As-if” (B 18/A 18), which means that art in general does not involve a realistic approach in terms of knowledge or morals, but instead a kind of playing mode (as if it was real) of man’s faculties (B 28/A 28), relates both to the virtual reality in video games, and to music’s highly virtual, game-like, and non-representational character. The thesis of homo ludens and the concept of music involving elements of play (not only in the trivial sense of somebody playing music) do not seem to be out of date (Herzfeld 148).
Bioshock Infinite’s soundtrack not only establishes a unique and grounded game world, but Garry Schyman and Irrational also “play” with it in various ways. Interweaving music and narrative together, music is thus privileged and brought to the forefront of Bioshock Infinite’s game system, where sound and image merge.
The opening of the game highlights several moments of “play.” Nearly mirroring the first Bioshock, the game’s protagonist, Booker DeWitt, makes his way to a lighthouse perched on a small island. Gibbons says of the first entry’s opening moments, “No music accompanies[…]The lack of music provides player with no help in assessing their situation, leaving them adrift in a strange environment” (“Wrap”). Booker makes his way to the top of the structure, passing various religious sayings along the way. At the top, three bells guard a locked gate. No music occurs up to this point. In “Wandering Tonalities,” exploring the use of silence in Shadow of the Colossus, Gibbons cites Halo composer, Martin O’Donnell, saying, “Music is best used in a game to quicken the emotional state of the player and it works best when used least,” and Gibbons notes, “Silence provides the negative space to ensure the music’s emotional effect” (“Wandering” 123). The first instance of music in Infinite sets an ominous and uneasy tone due to the prevalence of silence. Booker has a card displaying the pattern to play the bells. In a moment of interactivity, the player hits the bells in the proper order and the gate’s locks replay their pitches, the center of the given tonic being a C# minor. Then, a deep tuba horn conceivably coming from the sky does the same at a much slower tempo. The screen shakes due to the loud dynamics and the sky turns red with each successive horn blare. Immediately, Bioshock Infinite has the player “play” with music. The three bells set the musical tonic and acts as the tonal center for the rest of the game. Despite Booker’s insistence to go along with the plot, the music denotes a wary feeling, hinting to the player not all is not as it seems. And of course once the gate opens, the chair Booker sits in transforms into a rocket. In the original Bioshock, the protagonist was sent down to the underwater city of Rapture; Booker is promptly launched into the sky toward the floating city of Columbia. The ringing bells and bellowing horns emphasize that music is the key to opening new dimensions in the Bioshock universe, later reinforced by Elizabeth, the game’s other protagonist, and her ability to open “tears” into new worlds.
Schyman’s score comes into full effect when a voice on the intercom tells Booker the altitude of the ride. The track, called, “Welcome to Columbia,” features a small string ensemble playing a rapid and rising succession of high-pitched notes, mimicking the rocket’s launch into the sky. Booker’s cries for help go well with the chaotic string pattern, creating a sense of panic. Schyman opted to go for small intimate string ensembles to reflect the simpler time of 1912 (Goldfarb). Set in a dystopian and crumbling city, the original Bioshock made full use of cinematic strings to create meaningful moments of shock and terror within its dark corridors and horrifying enemies. As Schyman states, “Infinite stands in polar opposite to Bioshock the original game in that it glows in light and openness” (Valjalo 2). The first moments of “Welcome to Columbia” hint at Infinite’s predecessor and signal Columbia as another utopian city falling into chaos. The intercom announces “ascension” upon the player’s first view of Columbia as the music cuts out. About two or three seconds pass before a sparse old piano greets the player to the floating city. Silence works particularly well in this moment; an expansive view of the floating city without any aural cues allows the player to make his or her own an interpretation of Columbia. Herzfeld talks about the importance of smoothness within game soundtracks and its ability to affect the mood of the player. He writes, “Game soundtracks are objects with defined attributes, which have the power to play with the player’s moods, and must, in turn, react to the (subjective) input of the course of the game. The modulated player modulates the play” (Herzfeld 151). The piano kicks in with a particular timbre of early twentieth century America, reminiscent of music heard on the boardwalk. The piano-driven track composed by Schyman shares the same melody as the popular Christian hymn from 1907, “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” The hymn is brought up multiple times during the narrative and serves as a diegetic hint at the greater mystery of the game’s plot, but this will be discussed later. The piece creates a mood conveying a sense of optimism and nationalism; the city of Columbia is bright and beautiful as fireworks stream out of the central angelic tower in the center, vaguely similar to the Statue of Liberty. This optimism, however, becomes painfully ironic as the utopian city deteriorates before the player’s eyes over the course of the narrative. Schyman echoes this sentiment, “Understanding what was going on underneath the surface of Columbia was critical to how my music supported the story” (Valjalo 2). I have uploaded a clip of the “Welcome to Columbia” segment stripped of its music. The sense of panic is all but gone apart from Booker’s verbal discomfort, and the piano melody’s absence does not give the city a particular slant or edge to it. Silence works in most cases, but for a pivotal moment like first seeing Columbia, Schyman’s work stands out and serves a critical narrative function.
Silence does not work well in combat scenarios. I have uploaded a lengthy clip of Booker’s first battle in Columbia when he acquires both the skyhook and a pistol, but I have stripped the music from it. The scene is marked by an overabundance of violence and gore, as well as the panicked cries of the citizens and the shouts from the police force. Without music, there is no sense of urgency or purpose; the violence becomes a visually glorified distraction without a particular mood established by the presence of music. Schyman was partly inspired by Jonny Greenwood’s score for the movie, There Will Be Blood (Goldfarb). Greenwood, speaking to Entertainment Weekly, explains his philosophy for the film’s soundtrack:
We figured the instruments should be contemporary to the turn of the last century, but not period music. Even though you know the sounds you’re hearing are coming from very old technology, you can do things with the classical orchestra that unsettle you, that are slightly wrong, that have some kind of slightly sinister undercurrent (Willman).
Infinite adheres to similar design principles. With music, battles become intense unnerving affairs. Schyman infuses percussion-heavy arrangements to evoke the revolutionary cause and to reflect the fight against larger factions of enemy troops, while also highlighting frantic strings that fall in line with the original title’s psychological horror roots. The main combat theme, “Battle for Columbia,” shares a lot of similar techniques with Greenwood’s score. The battle music creates an impetus to end the conflict; the shrill strings and staccato percussion gives the player a sense of urgency and panic. The strings in particular seem to go all over the place musically, but it is a perfect reflection of the winding skyhook rail network of Columbia. The music rises and falls just like a rollercoaster. Combat also has some element of dynamism; when a player scores a headshot, a dissonant low-end string swell sounds, giving the player an aural cue to their effective action. This is an example of what Karen Collins calls kinesonic synchresis, or an interactive sound matched to an action (Collins 32). In addition, a short and shrill crescendo of violins play a little ending flourish once all enemies are disposed of in an area. The battle music then cuts off and silence ensues. The sense of panic, urgency and uneasiness is only effective because of the prevalence of silence Bioshock Infinite employs; battle is marked by a huge swell of intensity, dynamics, varied instrumentation and hectic composition.
Steampunk-aesthetic dive suit behemoths called “Big Daddys” were the main enemies from the original Bioshock. Infinite’s antagonist is “Songbird,” a Steampunk avian version of the Big Daddy. Similar to the weaving patterns of Columbia’s skyhook rail network, the intensity levels of the musical track, titled, “Songbird” are likewise just as unpredictable. Sound effects take precedence over music the first time seeing the mechanical beast; glass and tiles shatter on the ground, while Songbird claws at the room that holds Elizabeth and Booker. Songbird accidently hits the elevator button and with a moment of levity, the ring from the button causes the elevator to fall on the beast. Shrill metal scraping sounds emanate from Songbird trying to lift the elevator car, but they both fall and create a cacophony of distorted sound as they crash. There is then a momentary lull in dynamics once the “Songbird” theme starts. Similar to Greenwood’s score, tom drums and percussive beats play in a scattered, two-beat pattern while quiet, rising strings play eerily in the background. The entire scene is accented by the cinematic use of music, synchresis in action (Collins 26); as Booker and Elizabeth slowly climb their way out of the tower, the strings replicate their rise. The dynamics become louder with every step, and Schyman adds more instrumentation, like blaring horns and other drum patterns. Once outside the tower, the dynamics reach their max. Suddenly, the two characters fall from the tower and plummet in the air. The music drops out except for a dissonant low-end horn drone. There is more focus on Elizabeth’s visual and aural panic than on music. The eerie high-end strings return just before Booker latches onto a sky rail. At the exact moment he gets on the rail, the music comes back in full force, dynamics at an all-time high. The music now plays at a faster tempo and in a 4/4 pattern. The percussion becomes more frantic, adding additional clapping sticks and bells. On the first beat, the strings play a loud and sharp flourish, extremely reminiscent of Pyscho’s legendary motif. Booker eventually runs out of rail and plummets into the sea; the music then cuts out again as the sound of the wind rushing underneath dominates the soundscape. Synchresis is on full display during this scene; the visual rollercoaster ride matches the winding and unpredictable path of the music. The moments of silence elevate the sense of terror and panic as the player witnesses the destruction of a large part of the city.
Play is not restricted to interactive elements within Bioshock Infinite. Non-playable characters also contribute to building the game world’s believability by playing music customary of the early twentieth century. A group of NPCs in “Battleship Bay” play a traditional folk medley involving piano, violin and accordion. Elizabeth dances along and the player must interrupt her to advance the story. In another instance outside of “Fink Factory,” a woman sings an a cappella soul version of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son.” Likewise, I will get to the implications of anachronistic music within Infinite later. Within buildings, radios play other anachronistic versions of popular songs in the style of early 1900s music, as well as original songs. Creative director, Ken Levine even wrote a song called, “The Readiness is All” that deals with Columbia’s desire for racial purity. All of these examples not only establish the themes of the game, but they also go to great lengths making the fantasy world of Columbia feel established and real. Herzfeld comments, “A video game soundtrack contributes essentially to setting our imaginative apparatus in motion, in play; and the whole game, which depends on that apparatus, becomes more credible and immersive, the more animating the game is” (Herzfeld 148). The music works in context with the particular art style and historical inspirations the game draws upon from the American narrative.
Irrational and Schyman also play with musical terminology. The main antagonist’s name is “Songbird,” highlighting its own musicality. Songbird’s cries are a mix of highly distorted and pitch-bent woodwinds that come off extremely shrill, instilling a sense of fear whenever the monster enters an area. In addition to being called “Songbird,” the “key” to controlling the beast happens to come from a musical cryptogram. At the game’s climax, Elizabeth finally figures out the riddle that a cage will not control Songbird; instead, playing the notes, C-A-G-E in succession on “the whistler” yields control of the monster. From the beginning of the game, music is used to open new dimensions, and at the climax, for a greater sense of agency over the antagonist that threatens the protagonists throughout the narrative.
Bioshock Infinite is unparalleled in its use of music as a critical narrative function for a video game. The brunt of the game’s twist is hinted at with the Christian hymn, “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” On the surface, the hymn fits the game’s religious themes and the chorus’s lyrics seem like they were handwritten for the floating city: “Will the circle be unbroken / By and by, by and by? / Is a better home awaiting / In the sky, in the sky?” While focus may gravitate to the second half of the chorus’s lyrics with its parallel to the city in the sky, the clue to Infinite’s narrative twist is in the title of the work and the first line of the chorus. Mentioned previously, the player is introduced to the chorus melody with “ascension.” Immediately following Booker’s arrival into Columbia, he walks through the “Welcome Center,” essentially, a chapel made in honor of Father Comstock. Within the chapel, numerous religious followers sing a choral version of the hymn while a zealot forces Booker to become baptized in order to enter the city. I have uploaded two videos from the “Welcome Center:” one of which has no music, and the other is an appropriation of the “Song of Time” from The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time in place of the hymn. While the Zelda song reflects the same spiritual mood as “Will the Circle Be Unbroken,” the narrative weight of the hymn disappears. The hymn is so integral to Bioshock Infinite’s story, it could be considered an example of what Karen Collins calls synchresis, or when sound and image merge (Collins 26). The hymn recirculates time and time again in the game, alerting the player of its importance without explicitly giving away the narrative twist.
Upon stepping out of the “Welcome Center,” Booker enters the “Plaza” and sees the floating buildings and aerial blimps from an up-close and personal. A platform gently takes Booker down to the main plaza area while the track, “Lighter Than Air” plays. The song also shares the same melody as “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” The track is very free flowing; the main violin melody is, for lack of a better word, airy, hanging on each note in a fleeting manner. Composed of a small string ensemble and piano, the simple arrangement gives a sense of wonder and discovery, mirroring the player’s own awe at first stepping foot in the utopian world of Columbia. The piano is the main driver for that sense of whimsy, as it seems to fall under the category of aleatoric music; it seems to be left up to chance and follows no strict composition. The piece resembles the work of American composer, Charles Ives, who was one of the first to experiment with aleatoric technique at the onset of the twentieth century. The composer was also renowned for combining popular American and church songs together with European art music, which sounds awfully familiar to the musical system of Bioshock Infinite (Burkholder 4). The player gets a taste of European art music in the memorial to Lady Comstock within the “Hall of Heroes.” Selections of Mozart’s “Requiem” play in each successive room of the exhibit. I have uploaded two clips, one without music, and the other with my own orchestration of the display. Neither captures the pain and woe Comstock feels for his wife’s murder and the “Requiem” perfectly reflects the high European architecture found within the memorial.
“Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” rears its head again midway through the game in an interactive scene. Elizabeth points out an acoustic guitar lying in an abandoned cellar and tells Booker music would help liven up the mood. The player can then interact with the guitar; Booker plays some backing chords while Elizabeth sings a portion of the Christian hymn. In Gibbons’s conclusion to the use of licensed music in Bioshock, he writes the music creates, “both a palpable sense of irony in its atmosphere – one of the game’s most-praised aspects – and a complex web of intertextual references, involving musical ‘puns’ based on song titles and lyrics (both heard and unheard)” (“Wrap”). In the case of the recurring “Will the Circle Be Unbroken,” the hymn’s uplifting message on faith becomes twisted as Columbia falls into dystopia while the title and lyrics become ironic after the player learns of the game’s dramatic narrative twist.
In the “Welcome Plaza,” the player walks around and discovers the fantastical floating world of Columbia and its outspoken citizens. Suddenly, a blimp appears in front of the player, a barbershop quartet atop it on a makeshift stage. They begin singing The Beach Boys hit, “God Only Knows,” despite the fact the song came out in 1966. Neither NPCs nor the game’s protagonist, Booker DeWitt, mentions the anachronism; only the player realizes the mysterious diegetic music at play. Other renditions of Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” Tears for Fears’s “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” and R.E.M.’s “Shiny Happy People,” among others, appear in the style of various early 1900s music. The “strange role” of music in Infinite Ken Levine refers primarily to these anachronisms (Meyer). Like the recurring “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” hymn, the use of popular music from various future eras clues the player in on the plot twist, peppered throughout the game like a bread crumb trail. The intertextual music fits perfectly with Elizabeth’s ability to open “tears” into new dimensions and worlds. First used in literary criticism, Julia Kristeva’s term, “intertextuality” refers to how a text’s meaning is shaped by another text (Allen 1). Infinite’s use of adapting and transforming music from several eras creates its own unique meaning. The popular music reinforces Gibbons’s argument: the licensed music, “[embodies] or reflect[s] on the general dystopian environment (most ironically)” (“Wrap). Columbia remains in harmony at the beginning of the game, and the popular songs give the sense of peace and joy to reflect that, most notably the cheery “God Only Knows” reinterpreted in a bright barbershop quartet style. As the player witnesses Columbia’s rapid decline, however, the anachronistic songs’ titles drip with irony, reflecting on a utopia soon extinguished. R.E.M.’s “Shiny Happy People” reimagined in a swing form, plays from a decrepit radio in a destroyed part of Columbia near the latter half of the game. In another straightforward example, some songs, through a combination of their titles or lyrics, ambiguously refer to an event in the game or location. In “Battleship Bay,” Elizabeth dances and interacts with many of Columbia’s citizens lounging on the makeshift beach. Booker comments on the need to move on quite often, but Elizabeth ignores him. Lauper’s “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” plays over the scene, remixed as a purely instrumental version on a calliope. Re-appropriating music from all eras, Infinite interweaves its music into its game system. The music conveys information while simultaneously keeping the mystery alive.
Gibbons offers a slight counterargument in his conclusion to “Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams.” He mentions the use of popular music as a narrative soundtrack element is evidently flexible. Quoting George Lucas, the director points out that, “the amazing thing…was that we could take almost any song and put in on almost any scene and it would work. You’d put a song down on one scene, and you’d find all kinds of parallels” (“Wrap”). I uploaded a clip of the “Welcome Plaza” with Norman Greenbaum’s “Spirit in the Sky” playing over it. Unsurprisingly, it works pretty well in terms of atmosphere and lyrical congruency. Yet, it does not have the same impact as Schyman’s original score or the restyled covers of the licensed music. Each facet of the soundtrack is carefully engineered to offer a commentary on the world of Columbia or the narrative. The music is brought to the forefront of the game system.
Bioshock Infinite’s various polished elements provide a powerful experience for gamers. However, the music tends to be one of the most memorable aspects of the experience, in particular, the irony of the songs’ tones and the anachronistic covers. While the original Bioshock set the foundation for utilizing popular music to create an ironic dystopian atmosphere, Infinite takes it to new heights. In terms of music serving as a narrative function, Infinite is unmatched. Schyman’s original score grounds the fantastical game world and makes it semi-believable, while the use of eerie string ensembles echoes Infinite’s predecessor, in terms of musical aesthetic and narrative. Music is privileged throughout the game, used for opening new worlds, controlling characters and as a constant narrative device. Irrational and Schyman coalesce music and narrative to create synchresis, melding of image and sound; music is thus brought to the forefront of Bioshock Infinite’s game design, showing new and unprecedented ways to incorporate sound into interactive media.
Works Cited
Allen, Graham. Intertextuality. London: Routledge, 2000. Print.
Burkholder, J. P. Charles Ives, the Ideas Behind the Music. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985. Print.
Collins, Karen. From Pac-Man to Pop Music: Interactive Audio in Games and New Media. Aldershot, Hampshidre, England: Ashgate, 2008. Internet resource.
—. Playing with Sound: A Theory of Interacting with Sound and Music in Video Games. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press, 2013. Internet resource.
Cox, Kate. “Jazz, Teddy Roosevelt, and Jumping Off the Edge: What Makes BioShock Infinite Tick.” Kotaku. N. p., n.d. Web. 3 May 2014.
Gibbons, William. “Wandering Tonalities: Silence, Sound and Morality in Shadow of the Colossus.” Music in Video Games: Studying Play. Ed. K.J. Donnelly, William Gibbons and Neil Lerner. New York: Routledge, 2014. Print.
—. “Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams: Popular Music, Narrative, and Dystopia in Bioshock.” Game Studies 11.3 (2011): n. pag. Web. 3 May 2014.
Goldfarb, Andrew. “The Music of BioShock Infinite.” IGN. N. p., 12 Mar. 2013. Web. 7 May 2014.
Herzfeld, Gregor. “Atmospheres at Play: Aesthetical Considerations of Game Music.” Music and Game: Perspectives on a Popular Alliance. Ed. Peter Moormann. Berlin, Germany: 2013. Internet resource.
Irrational Games. Bioshock Infinite. 2K Games, 2013. Xbox 360.
Lahti, Evan. “Interview: Ken Levine on player movement, Disneyland, and how Bioshock Infinite’s villain compares to Andrew Ryan.” PC Gamer. 18 Dec. 2012. Web. 10 Apr. 2014.
Meyer, John M. “Q&A: Ken Levine’s Brave New World of BioShock Infinite.” WIRED. N. p., 26 Apr. 2012. Web. 3 May 2014.
Schyman, Garry. Bioshock Infinite: Original Game Soundtrack. 2013. MP3.
Valjalo, David. “BioShock Infinite’s composer Garry Schyman on making music for the Songbird.” PC Gamer. 14 Mar. 2013. Web. 10 Apr. 2014.
Willman, Chris. “‘There Will Be Blood’: Radiohead Man Scores!” Entertainment Weekly. 5 Nov. 2007. Web. 3 May 2014.
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