As Katsura Hashino, the sport’s director, spoke quietly in April, dropping a truth that has lingered with me ever since: “The music you hear during recreation exists within the protagonist’s mind.” On screen, as he talks, a scene unfolds depicting Gallica, the protagonist’s tiny fairy companion, casting a spell; blue sparks envelop the protagonist and a dialogue box appears reading, “It’s as if music is playing directly in my head.” The profound influence of Gallica’s mystique is truly awe-inspiring.
As Gallica spoke, her voice rang out, proclaiming, “Music has been the most potent magic this world has ever known, despite all adversity.” Let the street be a bit simpler.
As the iconic soundtrack to the Devil Summoner series evolves with each iteration, I make sure to acknowledge and give due credit to its visionary composer, Shoji Meguro. I consider Gallica, the game’s mastermind composer, responsible for crafting each single meticulously. And it’s critically distracting me!
Don’t get me wrong; I really enjoy the songs on. The soundtrack’s release coincided with that of the sport itself; I’m currently immersed in its melodies while writing this. I relish the eerie, discordant harmonies, the fervent vocal incantations weaving through epic combat scenes, and the lively, Celtic-inspired melodies that punctuate joyful moments – as when the characters gather to savor a meal together in convivial camaraderie?
I’m captivated by the paradox that all this music exists solely in the protagonist’s mind, with Gallica seemingly responsible for its composition – or perhaps, it’s merely a spell, leaving her without a tangible role in the ever-changing melodies. I don’t know.
I’m well aware that I judge music solely according to an utterly preposterous fictional yardstick. Typically, a melody commences, prompting me to ponder: “Will this particular selection suffice for Gallica?” The remark seems out of kilter with the tone of the conversation unfolding. Moreover, it is crucial to consider whether the music ever diverts our protagonist’s attention away from the people speaking to him. As a direct consequence of its pervasive presence in almost every conversation he engages in – both the hurtful and stressful ones. As the fight rages on, it’s likely that he would require an energizing accompaniment to fuel his adrenaline, but I’m uncertain about embracing Gallica’s constant sonic assault during every waking moment. As I wander through the hallways of my high school days, wearing my trusty headphones, I’m perpetually seeking out tunes that harmonize with the ebbs and flows of my adolescent emotions.
It’s plausible that the protagonist’s age could influence his interest in the recreation, warranting further exploration. Despite being accustomed to wearing headphones while listening to music, I still found it necessary to remove them during historical lectures in order to focus. I just wanted a moment of silence to collect my thoughts.
This isn’t a real drawback, although I find myself utterly enthralled by it. Will the protagonist’s imperturbable façade crack, prompting her to request a temporary reprieve from Gallica’s relentless sonic stream? After more than 30 hours of work, he has yet to express any dissatisfaction with the pace or quality of my efforts? Perhaps he’s hesitant to offend her?
How did Recreation Director Katsura Hashino rationalize the soundtrack as evidence? We’re not pausing to wonder where the soundtrack is originating from while watching a movie or TV show.
However, this narrative delves into the art of storytelling, often embracing self-awareness and exploring the conventions that shape our tales. The music serves as yet another reminder of the artificial nature of the world in which my character exists, perpetually nudging me to consider the artifice that underlies every aspect of his reality. If this is the mood I’m supposed to be in, then it’s definitely taking hold, causing me considerable unease.
