Wild Arms Alter code: F Original Score

The idea behind Wild Arms Alter code:F reminds me of the Star Wars special edition. In what seems to be a great idea - taking solid, successful source material and touching it up - is a risky proposition. Regardless of the medium involved history has shown that revivals are a crapshoot if anything; the old adage “the original was better” didn’t just appear overnight or for no reason. Looking back at Star Wars' updated ventures, I can remember questioning my friend's reaction over Greedo’s itchy trigger finger in A New Hope. In not being a hardcore fan, I couldn’t relate as to why this change brought about such wrath. However, after reflecting on the similar nature of Alter code:F and my qualms concerning it, who am I to judge?

Just like anything that receives a fresh coat of paint, Alter code:F isn’t invulnerable to scorn or the plethora of inevitable comparisons to that which it originates. Sure, I could sit here and pretend not to have knowledge of original score, hiding my fondness for it by avoiding any and all association but the result would hardly be honest. So while this review is already doomed to become an old versus new rant, hopefully such comparisons will only serve to describe the strengths and deficiencies contained within.

Alter code:F wastes no time in posing questions, starting things with off the title theme rather than the opening theme. This is a rather insignificant issue in the grand scheme of things, but why not open the score with “To the End of the Wilderness,” a strong, central theme most listeners immediately identify as a series hallmark? Herein lies the effort of Alter code:F to be seen as more than a remake; it’s a novel idea that isn’t without merit, but why fight against such a common preconception? Such intent can be seen throughout the game where there seems to be a constant strain to make more out of past ideas despite their former success. The result can be heard in tracks like “Companions” that hopelessly meander on in their search for a sense of being.

Beyond its transparent attempt to separate itself from its origins while still firmly embracing them, the other problem that haunts the score is the persistence of time. This isn’t referring to how well Naruke’s compositions stand eight years later but rather how well they translate given the advancements in technology. With advancement comes pressure to use more mature samples. Evolution isn’t a bad thing in and of itself, but throwing around phrases like "cleaner" and "more precise" doesn’t automatically equal out to a better piece of video game music. Unfortunately, the necessity of staying on top of technology comes at a price.

It’s a common belief that a person can receive the same amount of enjoyment from an 8-bit chip tune that they can recieve from a full-featured orchestral piece. Part of why this is possible is due to the underlying beauty that can be found in simplicity. Despite not being at the 8-bit level, this “beauty of simplicity” was one of the elements the original Wild Arms had in its favor; it was hardly the antithesis of composition but it was easy to access and appreciate. This kind of accessibility is lost to a certain degree in Alter code:F due to the power and thickness of the instruments. Take pivotal tracks like “Boy of Hope” and “Alone the World” for example. That rustic, western feel may be enhanced but it comes at the cost of emotional context. There are numerous tracks guilty of the same thing - especially when it comes to the darker numbers - but it’s hardly the one-way street I'm making out to be. Some tracks like “Malduke” greatly benefit from the extra “oomph” the instruments provide, transforming what was an interesting yet flaccid dungeon theme into a piece with some preverbal bite.

One of the more debatable changes in Alter code:F is Naruke giving each Quarter Knight his or her own battle theme. Lady Harken’s “Murdering Princess” is the best example of how well this works, painting the picture of a character with a tragic, hidden fate. In retrospect however, in crafting battle themes for each specific villain, a important sense of unity is lost. While they usually attacked on a one-by-one basis, the Metal Demons were a unified front that represented a single, formable threat. Unlike these individual tracks, the original, universal Metal Demon battle theme from 1996 – “Power Fighter” - capitalized on this and captured something these tracks can't. So, where is that fear-provoking, unifying powerhouse in Alter code:F? Check out “Ka Dingel” on disc four for the disappointing answer.

As much time as I’ve spent deciphering Alter code:F’s shortcomings, you may be wondering when we're going to get to what went right. Ironically, like a cosmic slap in the face, it’s the newer pieces that make the album worth owning. This isn’t to say that there aren’t any good renditions of classic pieces - I seriously can’t get enough of “The Power that Supports the World” - but its new tracks like “Sense of Solidarity,” and “Determination, and then…” that remind one of why they fell in love with Naruke’s music in the first place. While it is unfair to pit the old against the new when one considers the newer pieces aren’t going to be subjected to the same level of scrutiny, these are kinds of things these scores leave themselves open to.

CONCLUSION:

After reading this, most will probably think I look down at Alter code:F with distain when compared to the original. I won’t deny the various misgivings outlined above, but I will say that Naruke’s work was one of the better aspects of the 2004 remake, a remake that failed to recapture the spirit of the original in almost every other category. Those who enjoy Naruke’s PlayStation Wild Arms entries but find her work for Wild Arms 3 a bit too textured for their taste will find that Alter code:F is an enjoyable visit to a simpler time despite it’s effort to be more than it really is.

Overall Score: 7/10