Post IX: Creating Anxiety (Celeste’s Soundtrack P2)
NOTE: This is part two of a connected post series about musical storytelling and emotional weight in Celeste. If you would like to read part one (where I introduce the concept more thoroughly), click here. If you would like to read my initial WP2 article for additional context, click here.
Celeste’s music triggers extremely diverse subconscious reactions within its audience, but the most thematically relevant is the game’s approach to anxiety and the innate response of uneasiness. Given that the game’s antagonist is, in essence, a manifestation of Madeline’s innate fears and troubles, it makes sense that the game would specialize in cultivating those emotions within its audience.
“Reach for the Summit,” as analyzed in my last post, incorporates rushing piano-dependent arpeggios and energetic strings, whereas at other times, Raine utilizes a new tone-oriented association to create anxiety: one between synths and disquiet.
The first instance of this storytelling technique occurs in the appropriately named track “Anxiety,” after you’ve been firmly acquainted with Part of Me. It happens in the middle of a panic attack, epitomizing the frenzy and suffocation felt while trapped in midair with seemingly no way down. A peaceful variation on one of the track’s most commonly repeated melodies (and one that the players have come to feel comfortable and secure with) quickly mutates into a jarring, dissonant overtaking of synths:
With this foundation built, we once again find ourselves in the chapter that I believe encompasses the genius of level design in Celeste, and the one I discussed most comprehensively in “The Middle: Examining Celeste’s Climax.” Raine once again lures the players into a false sense of security, with an extended version of a track the player is accustomed to: Theo’s theme. (Theo is a recurring side character who acts as your support system and friend.) But ever so faintly in the background, you hear a hint of the tragedy that is imminent:
Once the exposition dump is over, the game launches into a confrontation of Madeline’s anxiety. Raine’s music reflects this conflict, abandoning any melodic motifs built around comfort and illustrating the quiet but nagging thought that something is off:
But as you progressively draw closer to the inevitable encounter, the synths kick in, creating a pulsating feeling. With the track’s buildup comes the buildup of the audience’s stress. We’ve come to associate that introduction with negative events, producing a more powerful response.
This sense of immersion is absolutely vital to the storytelling experience in Celeste because it forces the audience into the position of the protagonist, giving them a taste of what it would feel like to be battling tooth and nail for control over your own thoughts and emotions. The learning experience, in that sense, stems from a trust in the audience’s sense of empathy, and that mental synchronization simply wouldn’t be possible without the addition of Raine’s soundtrack.