[Aradon Templar]: 240.Expression Without Limits

I was an electronics junkie. I could sit in front of the computer or the TV for hours upon hours, doing absolutely nothing. Nothing could make me happier, or so I thought, than moving little avatars of characters around a battlefield. I was exceedingly good at those video games, but fast finger reflexes and a good mind for battle strategies are pretty worthless in the real world. I could see clearly that I was simply wasting my time. Playing games was a kid’s occupation, and for an aspiring lawyer, it did little to prepare me for the world of law I would eventually enter. Admittedly, at age fourteen I still thought of myself as a kid, but the fact couldn’t be escaped that playing games was doing nothing for my future. Read a book, my parents told me, or Go study for school, or Practice your viola. All excellent suggestions, and perhaps if I had followed that last, I’d be an even better musician. But if I had done that instead of playing games, I don’t think I’d be the same person I am today. I wouldn’t have discovered the best part of my life.

Since I spent so much time playing them, games held a lot more meaning for me. While I was playing, tension would build just as if I were reading a book. I’d get involved in the story, and it would become hard to put the game aside, just like any decent thriller novel. The Greeks knew that in a good tragedy, or really any sort of play, the end must produce in the audience a feeling of release and cleansing they called catharsis. Movie directors today make sure to include the same sort of feeling in their resolutions because it lets the audience leave feeling better than when they came in. Well, I have found the same to be true across a dozen decent role-playing games, too. Each and every time I finished a Final Fantasy, I walked away feeling more complete, and also more thoughtful. How did he feel to make that sacrifice? How would I have gone about handling that situation? Who really was wrong in the end? When I finish the game, I end up returning from that fantasy realm back to the real world, and I always think to myself about what I learned while playing and how it should be applied to my life.

None of it made any real impact on my life, though, until I finished Final Fantasy X. The ending theme hovered fresh in my mind, tugging at my emotions. Like usual, I was feeling thoughtful, probably more so than usual because it had a very good ending, so I went to my room to think. It was my brother’s room, really, but he had long since vacated it to go to college. The walls were decorated with his models, a small bookshelf sat in another corner with his books, and a couple of his wall scrolls adorned the walls. I could feel the soft carpet underneath my feet, and the soft sheets on the bed looked inviting. I stifled a yawn and took another look around the room. The large window to my left was filled with the black night sky, in stark contrast with the plain white walls. I liked the room, even if nothing in it belonged to me. Certainly, though, it made me feel a little out of place, somewhere between school and getting ready for a bigger world.

At the time I was planning to study and become a lawyer, but it seemed somewhat ill suited to me. I was a very good debater and did well on the Mock Trial team at school, but public speaking is my Achilles heel, so to speak. That night, I was thinking over why and how a simple game could hold so much influence on me. The ability to induce emotions in someone else is something usually reserved for rousing speeches and eloquent poetry, not supposedly shallow games. Eventually, I realized it was the music that gave depth to everything. The music touched me. It was an intangible, yet keystone component to the emotion of the whole game. Looking back at the game from that point, I could see that without the music, I wouldn’t have cared about the game at all. Worse, I wouldn’t have taken anything from the game, and it would indeed have been a total waste of my time. The music made everything seem important enough to think about and ask questions about. And just like the ending theme still hummed in my head, the music brought along with it feelings and thoughtfulness. Whenever I hear Final Fantasy X's ending theme, I'll always remember the sacrifice of the characters, how they moved on, and how they learned always to value their friends.

Music can take anything, add to it, and give it new, stronger, and deeper meaning. Dissonant music can create unrest in an audience, and dissonant music with a visual scene can cause the audience to think the scene is wrong. Similarly, valiant and bold music can inspire the courageous feelings in the audience, and when paired with an image like the American flag, it can promote the symbol. These examples just scratch the surface of music’s capabilities, though. My experiences playing games helped me realize just how expansive music is. In retrospect, I could think of countless songs from game soundtracks that inspired feelings from sadness to serenity, despondency to happiness, and fear to bravery. Music’s possibilities were truly limitless, though, and I knew that no matter how beautiful a piece was, it was possible to write something even better. Music was a freeform expression far more powerful that words. Music goes straight to the heart, while words pause in the mind to be considered.

When I realized how thoroughly music had touched my life that evening, sitting in my room, I knew I wanted to write it. Without my even realizing it, music added untold depths to my character. I found myself familiar with emotions that I rarely even experienced in real life, and it occurred to me that I could share my emotions and experiences with others in the same manner. Music is a uniquely effective means of communication, because it imparts messages to people without requiring their conscious understanding and acceptance. These messages in music greatly enrich my life, which I consider to be of paramount importance. Creativity draws largely on experiences with emotions, thoughts, and ideas, and by providing these through music, I can encourage creative growth in others too. I know that if I hadn’t been touched by music through the games, I’d still be unfocused and wasting time on all the newest electronic systems, and I’m grateful for this sort of wakeup call and all the mental support and growth I receive through quality music. I also know that there are countless other obsessed gamers out in the world who haven’t gotten the message, which is why I decided that evening to write music for these games myself. I could be a part of what originally helped me and reach out to other people who aren’t even interested in changing, because interested or not, music will communicate to them. It can enrich their lives so that their own creative growth can start to take place, and make them aware of connections to their own lives. I want to show these people what I saw, that there is a limitless world outside of their television that can be anything they want it to be. All they have to do is imagine it and then bring it to life. Music is just that: the expression of anything I can imagine brought to life.